Orphen
by Agent D
Summary: A pure hearted ferret embarks across a new age of Mossflower, unaware his newfound friends plan to upset the delicate balance and overthrow the country. But it becomes clear that the sides are no longer black and white.
1. Destiny Reborn

08/15/09: So here we are, after an entire year of waiting, I bring to you the rewrite to the story. All just to trace back to the beginning. I dearly hope this was worth the wait for you all, and to myself. I'm amazed at everything I changed, hopefully for the better. And for those late to the party, if you want the old incomplete draft to the original story, you are free to contact me. So without further adieu…the New Beginning.

* * *

An ocean of clouds blotted out the moon, depriving Elena of the precious light she desperately needed to guide her way. Hours passed, the savage rainfall showed no signs of dying out. Lighting struck the lands continuously, ominously trailing the fleeing ferret, as if the sky itself was witnessing her fate this night. It watched as she ran blindly through the wilderness, a look of desperation and fear evident in her eyes. Her rags did little to shield her from the rain, but her racing heart kept the chill at bay.

A flash of lighting struck nearby, illuminating the sheer terror painted on the maidens face. She was lost – no sense of where she was going – but that was Elena's intention. She may be running blind, but so are her pursuers. With one arm, she batted shrubberies and branches from her eyes as she delved deeper into the wilderness. But her other arm was tucked firmly to herself, holding a newborn. His face carried Elena's features, her child without a doubt. It was for his sake Elena was fleeing, placing him in front of her own well being.

In a stroke of misfortune, Elena's footing had caught in her dragging cloak, forcing her to stumble. The maiden turned her body to fall to her side, sparring her son from being caked in mud. The ferret immediately tried to rise back to her feet, when all of a sudden she became anchored to the ground as a searing sensation pulsed throughout her body. The muscles in her legs contracted and twisted painfully, rendering her legs numb and useable. Not understanding the consequences of running past her body's limits, Elena feared that her legs were dead. An unfamiliar pain in her stomach added to the invisible weight holding her down. Hour's worth of exhaustion began to assail Elena as her adrenaline She closed her eyes under the continuous rain, tensing up as the pain came and went with every heartbeat

Despite the events, Elena did her best to persist through the discomfort. With her free arm, she clawed at the mud, dragging herself to the dearest tree where she could hide and rest. As Elena tried to press her back against the trunk, a sharp pain arose from her lower back, extending to the opposite side of her stomach. Her fear and paranoia continued to plague the otherwise restful moment. Elena wanted to wake up from this yearlong nightmare. Ever since it all began, Elena had never been able to feel safe again. Over the months her havens have been rooted out, leaving her no choice but to run.

Not matter where she fled, her pursuers found a way to draw closer, Elenor know that somewhere in these forests, they are just an arrow's reach away from her. There was nowhere left for her to hide, no one alive or willing to harbour her. Knowing that running never lasts forever, Elena knew this was to be her final night.

Dejected and broken, Elena drew her paw to the source of the pain in her stomach. She winced, feeling only the wet fabric of her clothes. As she inspected her withdrawn paw, she found that her fur had become darker, discoloured. Lighting once again struck at a timely moment, giving Elena a clear view of how much blood she was losing. Least to say the sight of her own life stained all over her paw was unsettling. A product of a barbed shaft pierced her back, ripping through her abdomen as it exited through the other side. Though she splintered the arrowhead, she was wise enough not the remove the shaft lest she risk excessive bleeding.

Her baby, sensing his mother's pain and distress, thrashed his arms out of the bundle of cloth his mother wrapped over him from her own rags. He managed to pull Elena out of her feeling of despair, as she looked down at her son press his arms against her, doing what his newborn mind can to comfort her. Despite this small act, this small child succeeded to pull Elena into some semblance of hope once more. Now it was her turn to reassure her child.

"It's…alright. I'm okay." She stroked his head fur to comport him, but pulled her paw away when she realized her fingertips were tracing her own blood down his forehead.

She wiped away the blood as best she could, not to leave a trace of taint on her sons' features. She crooned and cooed to the child as he grew unsettled. Barring the few friends who stood and died by her side in these trying times, Elena's son, despite being a helpless newborn, was the only real being she felt truly safe with. He had been the only contact with people she had for the past year, being nurtured inside of her. For a fortnight, after his birth into the world, neither of them had since left each other's side. The both of them refused to part from one another.

It was a scant hope, she knew. But Elena always wanted to believe there exists a place she could be truly safe. The boy's father has proven that there was no such place in the world. Elena knew that as long as she was still alive, eventually they would be able to find her child. They would abuse him; raise him to become a hateful monster, erasing the wonderful person he could be.

"The hell I'm going to let that happen to you." She said out loud, brushing her chin over her sons' head, which seemed to comfort him.

She stayed under the tree, debating on her next course of action. She thought deeply, probably much longer than she should have. All signs pointed to one last alternative, one last chance to ensure a normal life for her child. The only way Elena's pursuers could find the cub was by tracking the person caring for him, his mother. However, with her out of the picture, they would have no hope of ever finding him. As for as she knew, no one knew what the baby looks like, there would be no way for them to recognize her son. But neither would Elena; she can't know where her son would be to ensure that.

She even had letters prepared. She never thought it would really come to this. She knew it was a selfish thing to keep her son with her for this long. She acknowledges now that all her hopes of attaining a normal life with her son were never possible in the first place.

Elena finally came to a decision, rising back to her feet. The resting Elena took did will for her, barring the wound she's endured, which thankfully the bleeding is starting to stop. Cautiously, she stepped out of her cover of hiding, but determined to find a wiling dweller in this forest to take her child in, momentarily at least. She mustn't afford to waste any more time. A disturbing and familiar presence swept through the air. She feared that at any second now, her greatest fear would strike her down.

And she was right.

The skies expelled another lightning, revealing Elena's presence to the patient hunter, giving the archer to perfect opportunity to let his arrow fly. It tore swiftly through Elena's robes, grazing her arms deeply, before plunging into the mud. Without daring to look back, she raced off.

Her attacker was not troubled in the least that she was losing herself within the maze of the wilderness. This was a last act of desperation, a fool's effort. His heart was beating as fast as Elena's; lighting flashed to show his satisfied expression. He was so close; he swore he could smell Elena's blood from here. He could almost feel the baby she stubbornly carried with her. The imposing male ferret noticed one of his companions notching a bow, and immediately reached to divert the aim.

"No." He commanded. "I want her alive. Alive." He repeated the last word more loudly, to make it clear to his subordinate.

"My lord." The shadowed rat replied, with a scared pitch in his voice, "I thought we only need the child."

"Loy, shut up!" Another rat warned his companion harshly.

The large ferret would've killed that rat right on the spot, but he didn't have the time for it. "She could fall, and possibly drown the baby in mud." He explained, "But even if you do catch her, I still want her alive!" He raised his voice loudly when the incompetent rat dared to open his mouth, "Don't ask! Groups of two, head along the north and the south. First she'll head directly west, then head to the adjacent directions to try and lose us."

* * *

Knowing Roth, he would assume Elena would flee to either the north or the south instead of straight down the opposite direction like a fool. Her gamble to take the fool's road this time has brought a few hours in what little time she has. Truth be told, Elena no longer knew where she was heading, the only truth is that she mustn't stop running. Her hope faded as the trees began to thin. Soon she found herself breaking out of the safe folds of the forests and out onto open grassland. Finally, Elena succumbed completely in defeat. She swung her face up to the skies and sobbed, the rain only attributing to mix with her tears.

"I don't care anymore if I die." She called to the skies, praying that some all knowing force would hear her, "Just give my son a chance to choose his own fate, please!"

In normal circumstances, she would've never relied on Fate to help her. For a moment, it seemed her prayers have been answered by a sick joke. From across the downpour, Elena caught sight of a small glimmer of light in the distance. She nearly recoiled in terror, fearing it was one of the trackers. The panic passed when she could make out the shape to be far too large to be a person.

Curious, Elena pulled herself back to her feet, trekking towards the black shape. She drew closer; making out stonewalls surrounding a massive building in the centre. She trailed her paw along the walls, trying to feel for a door or a gate. Instead, her paw brushed against a brass sign amongst the stonework. She couldn't believe her eyes that the words inscribed "Wellman's Orphanage."

"No." She turned her eyes away in doubt, "No. This is too obvious." She pondered through every possible detail of that scenario. This building stood out more than the sun in the skies. There was a chance though that her chasers may overlook this place because of that, even him. But that would be wishful thinking. Even if the tenants were willing to shelter her son, it would mean putting their lives, and the lives of the other children at stake. Then she regretfully reminded herself how important her son was, compared to the fate of Mossflower. Regardless, the baby would be much safer hare than with her.

If only she had more time, Elena thought. It seems thought this is the best that Fate could afford for her. She quickly scoffed at reminiscing, continuing to believe in fate after all it has done to her. _"No."_ She immediately renounced her doubts. Fate wasn't to blame for her woes and hardships; it was the monster that twisted it for his own gains. Elena could almost hear Fate itself beckoning her to trust in it now. Perhaps it was just her rationality speaking, it didn't matter anymore.

She made her decision, not daring to waste time. Her paw trailed down the walls, trying to find the entrance in the pitch-black night. Eventually she grasped the iron frame, the barred entrance to her son's salvation. Though the gates were locked, it didn't phase the mother's conviction as she started to climb. Taking to account the child in tow, she was doing pretty well. The adjacent bars of the gate were all slanted, making it exceptionally difficult for her to keep a steady foothold. And the further she climbed, the higher the bars were to reach. She knew it would've been easier if she had left her son in the rain so she could climb over and slide him through. Damn her selfishness for not making that sacrifice. She was only halfway up when she found herself in a hopeless situation; the next bar was just too high to reach. Undeterred by this obstacle, Elena stressed her legs, standing on her toes to gain that inch she needed.

She should have seen the signs; her feet shaking against the narrow bars. At first, the tips of her fingers were able to grasp the bar. Then all of a sudden, her target drew smaller, farther away. She couldn't understand what was happening, until she felt her feet hit the ground. The mud cushioned the fall, but it did nothing to spare Elena from the pain of her mistakes. Shortly later, believing the worst happened, Elena dared to stand up again. Although it hurt, her leg managed to hoist her up. But it was when she tried to settle the other food down she realized how bad the fall was. She fell forward, bracing the gates just in time. She prayed that her leg wasn't broken. Regardless, she was in no condition to climb again.

"I'm so sorry…" She curled up against the wall, making herself as small as possible. Although her son was safe from the storm, his almost empathic ability to sense his mother's pain echoed into him, encouraging him to cry again. He felt so cold in Elena's arms, she was remorseful she couldn't save him. "I'm sorry." Was all she could say.

"Please don't cry. Please don't cry…" She tried to calm her child down, unaware that she herself was weeping.

* * *

The mouse Elenor frowned heavily as she spotted yet another article of clothing on the floor, carelessly discarded by one of the dibbuns. An apron was draped over her nightgown, specially made to have a laundry basket tied at the front. Elenor only wished the basket was larger, as she was becoming more encumbered day and night, as the children grew untidier. Unfortunately this wasn't the worst of her duties.

Elenor trekked to the guest's waiting room, peeing in with her lantern in one paw. Upon first inspection, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. Just before she could proceed to the next room, a small sound caught her attention. She knew that noise from anywhere, a mischief's giggle.

Closing the doors quietly behind her, Elenor crept to look behind the curtains, no one, leaving only the draped table in the centre. The mouse knew what the scamp was up to. The second she lifts the covers, the child would jump up and scare her. Well, she certainly isn't going to give this late sleeper the satisfaction. Once more, the child beneath the table failed to suppress his triumphant laugh, giving Elenor the opportunity circle behind the dibbun, turning the tables on the child's game.

"Got you!" She flung open the table covers, expecting the child to jump up and bang his head. All she saw however was an empty space. But this was impossible, she heard a child giggle under this table. An unsettling possibility occurred to her, but she tried to dismiss the thought. There was no such thing as ghosts, especially not the one Elenor used to frighten unruly children. When she stood up, she realized she wasn't alone. A small spectre had been standing on the opposite side on the table. It lunged at Elenor, making a tortured face, encouraging Elenor to scream in fright.

It took the mouse maid a moment to realize the ghost was pounding on the table, laughing uncontrollably at her reaction.

"Ald'ruhn." Elenor stamped her feet down, "I can't believe you!"

The little otter seemed unfazed by her menacing tone, instead walking up to tug at her apron, "Now you go hide!"

"Oh, no Ald'ruhn." The mouse's agitation turned to wearisome, "You knows it's not playtime during the night."

"But it's much more easy hiding in the dark." The otter-boy replied.

"Night time is sleep time."

"But I don't get tired." Ald'ruhn complained, "By the time I get to sleep, it's already morning and everyone's already waking up."

Elenor smiled, knowing full well this was an empty excuse, "Do you know that if you stay awake for too long, you'll never be able to sleep again?" She was lying, be Ald'ruhn was quite impressionable.

"Well, then I don't have to go to bed anymore." The otter failed to see the lesson.

"But you'll never get to dream again, no matter how hard you try." At last, the little otter began to show worry on his brow.

"But…but I like dreaming."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?"

"Um…" The otter-lad was at loss, his white lies proving useless.

"Now come on." Elenor took Ald'ruhn's paw; urging him to walk with her, "Let's get you to bed."

"Wait a minute." A revelation came to the child, "Why do _you_ get to stay up then?"

* * *

Elenor made sure the otter cub wasn't feigning his slumber. It didn't take long for Ald'ruhn to fall fast asleep. Despite living as an orphan, Ald'ruhn was one of the lucky cases. He had no reason to have nightmares of the past, being only a baby when he was left on the orphanage's doorsteps. Elenor could only assume the worst why his parents had done this.

The other children however still had much recovering to be done. Elenor resumed her work, but she can still remember some of the orphans crying aloud in their sleep, waking up violently after having relived their worst memories. The further she moved away from the dorms, the more real and loud the cries became. It came to the point Elenor realized she was no longer imagining the cries anymore. She can hear it, meshed in the rain outside.

"Another one." Elenor thought sombrely, "But to leave the child in the rain? How could they?"

She hurried to the front doors, slipping out of her basket apron and into a raincoat. As she opened the doors to outside, she was surprised not to see a baby on the doorsteps. She followed the sobbing further ahead, remembering that the gates were routinely locked at night.

Her lantern shaped out a slender figure, quivering against the wall on the other side. Elenor could hear the adult sobbing as she drew closer, joined with the infants crying, bundled in the person's arms.

"Hello?" Elenor called out, "Are you alright?"

The female in the shadows arched upwards, spinning around to see the light bearer in the darkness, "Oh thank you!" she grasped the bars, "Thank you!"

Elenor immediately sensed something was wrong, it was wild desperation in the female's voice, not relief.

"Please, please! I need help!"

Elenor's drive to help others responded to the stranger's plea. The mouse rushed to the maiden, ready to unlock the gates without a moment's hesitation. "Don't worry." Reassured the stranger, "Everything's going to be fine. Every-."

Elenor gazed up, discovering that her lantern was close enough to the female so she was no longer a shadow. The shock of seeing a ferret up close all of a sudden caused Elenor to lose grip of her lantern and fall into the mud. The ferret immediately sensed Elenor's fears, and saw her backing away.

"No, please! Don't go!" Elena desperately tried reaching through the bars, which only succeeded in frighten the mouse more.

Elenor had half a mind to run back inside regardless. She would've almost called for Rayhne or one of the guards to scare off the ferret. That was until the ferret screamed with all her might words Elenor never expected to hear.

"Don't leave my baby to die! Please! You're my only hope!" Those words perplexed Elenor, she never expected a mother, a vermin mother, to speak about her child so caringly. It was almost unheard of, even in these times.

Strangely, the overturned candle in the lantern continued to flicker, giving Elenor a better look at the ferret. She was not what Elenor expected to see. There was nothing menacing or threatening about the ferret, quite the opposite. The maiden was small, frail, and on the breaking point of collapse. And she had not lived a pleasant life judging by the state of her clothes. Then Elenor saw the red smear over the Elena's stomach.

"You're hurt." Elenor stepped forward, "What happened?"

"They're after my son." Elena explained, "I tried, I tried everything! But I can't…" her legs gave out, dragging the ferret to her knees, "can't run anymore."

"Who's after your son?"

Elena shook her head, the less the mouse knew the better, "Please, please take him, hide him. Don't let them find my baby."

Elenor had no idea what to do. If this ferret was telling the truth, she had been fighting for who knows how long, there was no way Elenor could turn her away. But what if she wasn't telling the truth? Elenor hated herself for thinking this, but what if? There was always that possibility.

"I want to believe you." Elenor tried voicing her doubts as mildly as possible, "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to do." For a long while, Elena hadn't said anything. Just when Elenor was getting worried, the ferret pulled her son out from under her robes, taking one long look at him as if this would be the last time. A few drops of rain splashed against the baby's brow, causing him to curl up from the cold invasion. He began to squirm, reaching blindly for his mother to shield him as she always had. But the cold and stressing barrage continued, encouraging his cries. Elenor saw the ferret's mouth move; whispering something into her son, but the storm had drowned it out for Elenor to pick up.

Elena pushed her son though the gate bars, just wide enough for the baby to slide through. Elenor was taken back, almost horrified at what Elena was doing. The ferret maiden held her crying child out in the rain, to be taken in by Elenor or succumb to the cold rain. The baby thrashed wildly within his meagre bundle of cloth. The baby was overcome with nothingness, for the very first time he had become separated from the caring presence that has always kept him safe.

"Look at him." Elena implored, "There's nothing wrong with him. There's still hope, that's all I ever wanted for him."

At that point, all of Elenor's uncertainty vanished. She reached out to accept the child, and true to Elena's words, she did nothing to betray Elenor's trust. The mouse immediately tucked the whimpering baby beneath her cloak. She saw Elena's eyes have drained, as if what's left of her strength had given out as she relinquished her child. "What about you?"

"I don't have a future." Said Elena, doing her best to rise back to her feet, "Not beyond tonight."

"Wait!" Elenor had pulled out an envelope she had felt amongst the baby's clothe, "What is this?"

"The only thing he'll ever know of his mother." The ferret tested her injured leg again, and although agony swept across her face, she found that she was able to keep standing this time, "When you think he's ready. When he's old enough." And with that, she turned away, swearing not to look upon her son again.

"His name." Elenor asked, "Does he have a name?"

Elena was about to say that it was all in the letter. But then she realized where her son was going to be living. For the first time in a long while, she laughed, "Orphen."

* * *

The weasel knelt to his knees to inspect the footprints. In a way, the storm made things easier for him, with the rain filled the sunken impressions in the mud. If only his surroundings weren't pitch black he wouldn't have to crawl the entire way. But lately he found himself backing up, becoming befuddled at the pattern of the tracks, or rather the lack of it, "Well, this is new."

"So what is she to Lord Roth?" The weasel glanced up at his procrastinating partner, the lantern holder, "Like a mistress? An old flare?"

"Nobody." The weasel went back to studying the tracks, "Just a necessary means to have a child."

"That can't be." The pine marten cast scepticism, "The way he talks about her."

"Well," The weasel didn't bother this time to face the marten, "From what I heard, she was affiliated with that group who tried to stand up against him."

"Which one."

"Doesn't matter." The weasel shrugged, "They're all dead."

"So is that why he did what he did to her? One last insult to the graves of his enemies?"

"No, no. It was more than that." The conversation started to rouse the weasel's interest. "I overheard him talking to himself one time, how Elena was destined – no, no." The weasel tapped his temple in recollection, "Chosen, yes, chosen by fate to bear the perfect heir. That's where his sick sense of love comes from. Ultimately, all she is to him is a host for a son."

"Wow." The pine marten stumbled back, as if the revelation literally struck him, "Even I find that sad. Can't imagine what Roth is going to do to the baby if we ever catch Elena."

"Roth intends to raise the child to be everything like his father. That's more than enough imagination."

"If I were Elena right now, I'd kill the baby."

"Out of mercy?"

"Well, yes, that." The marten stated, though obviously not what he meant, "But more so to ruin Roth's plan. She'd be doing the closest thing anybody's going to get to hurting him."

"You don't get it." The weasel was slightly bemused at his partner's dry remark, "Elena's a true mother, even if it meant saving this country, and she would never kill her child. Not like the others."

"Yeah. I heard the first one eviscerated her own stomach with the baby still inside. The second one amma-lated herself too."

"Immolated." The weasel corrected, before brining things back to the present, "Look, can you do something useful and at least bring that lamp here? Or do you actually want her to escape again?"

"Alright, alright." The marten obliged the request, bringing the lantern close to the tracks.

"See, right here, and there." The weasel pointed at the respective areas, "She's changing her pace erratically. And here, she's dragging her feet through the mud."

"Maybe she was trying to imitate a wagon."

"No, she did that before but in a much more clever fashion. Before, she actually traced her steps over an actual wagon trail, then broke off to divert us."

"If anything, with this rain going on, it should slow her down, since you can see her imprints at the end of this line."

"Yes. But the set of tracks she made before that, it just doesn't…" The weasel didn't know hot to put it in words, "here, just look for yourself."

"I'm looking at it. I just don't see it." The marten admitted.

"Compare yours to hers."

As the marten lifted his feet, the same puzzled look from the weasel's face dawned on him, "That's not right, it's too wide."

"She's stepped in her own footprints. Twice. She was very careful, but she must've stumbled right here.

"Wait a minute. Only two times?"

"I know!" the weasel exclaimed, "She only took one set forward, and one set back. And she stopped right here." He pointed downwards to mark his frustration. "But she didn't move on forward again or else I could've told by third impressions in the ground. We should've found her right here!"

"Well you're the tracker. I'm just the sprinting lantern holder." The marten reminded the scout, "Don't take my opinion seriously, but the only way I could see her getting away from this is if she flew away."

The weasel nodded, half agreeing with his partner's. But it was that warped logic that helped him piece the puzzle together, "No wait. Wait a minute." The weasel scanned around him, searching for something within his reach. "Lend me that lantern." He hovered a candle over a crossing tree root. He brushed the tip of his claws over a certain spot, finding mud painted his paw.

He trailed the root to a tree, his suspicions confirmed at the faint signs of mud he saw on the bark, "Oh hell."

"What? What?" the marten looked over the weasels shoulder.

"She climbed the trees." The weasel raced to inspect the other side.

"But that can't be. She can't climb and carry the baby at once."

"Maybe she hung him in a bag. It-it doesn't matter!" Frantically, the weasel searched around for additional paw prints, hoping that the maiden simply leaped to the other side of the tree. Dread soon followed as he lifted the lamp to the branches above, "And she's jumped from branch to branch."

"But with the trees this dense."

* * *

Elenor had retired from her house cleaning. Tending to the newcomer is her first priority now. She had quickly removed the baby's drenched blanket, curling him up inside a clean towel. Her first problem was that the baby had not stopped crying. Elenor knew what was wrong; the baby could tell the person holding him wasn't his mother. Even with his eyes still shut, he knew. Elenor tried everything to comfort him, making him feel safe. What Elenor didn't know was that the infant's mother had been his life. It went on until Elenor was drained, taking rest upon one of the chairs.

Fortunately, her saving grace was time. The long overdue hours of sleep the baby missed had begun to catch up. Just when the mouse was on the brink on passing out herself, the baby's yawning seemed like a blessing to her. He found a place in her arms to rest and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of his mother. Elenor couldn't help but smile as he hugged her arm with his little paws. He looked so adorable and innocent unlike before. She couldn't dare put this child under Madrigal's care. Right now, she was looking at a little soul untouched by the dark nature of his own kind. Elenor wanted to keep it that, which is what his mother fought to preserve.

She eyes the envelope resting on her lap. She had to see the contents, so she could judge when the little ferret, Orphen, would be ready to receive it herself. The mouse read through the letter inside, quickly becoming absorbed by the words. In this letter, she saw the full scope of Elena's unconditional love for her child. Now she felt truly sorry for doubting the ferret before. In one fell swoop, this child and his mother changed Elenor's entire perception on vermin. The mouse was ashamed how narrow minded she was, having rarely left the orphanage since she herself was a child.

"You're very lucky," She said to the child still asleep in her arms, "to have a mother who loves you so much."

"Another one, I see?" The floors in the halls creaked, alerting Elena of the retired warrior.

"Rayhne." The otter appeared to have a history of battles, with the scars crossing over his cheeks, and a wide chip in his ear. It would have been hard to believe he was the caretaker of the orphanage, and the founder's descendant. And despite his grizzled appearance, Elenor knew he was one of the fairest individuals she ever knew. "It's a long story." She said, rocking the sleeping newborn.

"What's there to hear when there's nothing more to tell?" Rayhne approached to examine the new addition to Wellman's Orphanage, "Be they rescued from abuse, abandoned without a care, or violently deprived of their family. It all ends the same." His perceptions came crashing down when the cub he initially suspected to be a strange otter, was anything but. "I think I'm up for that long story."

And so Elenor retold the events. But worry began to fester within the mouse as she saw the unchanged expression in Rayhne's eyes.

"This is…" Rayhne deliberated, "I don't know."

"No, don't tell me you're going to send him to the Madrigal Houses." Elenor pleased the caretaker, "You know how the children are treated there."

"I don't want to." Rayhne stated his point, "But it's not up to me. It's the law. All vermin and good beast children are to be segregated. It's the only way to insure no incidents occur."

"What do you mean by incidents? The only thing I'm seeing is budget cuts. And people wonder why the children turn out so bad. " Elena scoffed, "Besides, we're far beyond Madrigal's reach. They don't have to know."

"It's not that." Rayhne explained, "I'm not trained for these kinds of situations. I wouldn't know how to raise his kind properly."

"This baby is not a situation." Elenor disapproved how Rayhne labelled the child, "Orphen is just like any other child. We raise him no different from the others. That's all there is to it."

"Wait, who did you just say?" Rayhne puzzled.

"Orphen." Elenor gestured to the sleeping child.

"You named him that?" Rayhne was in bemused disbelief.

"His mother did."

"His-?" This was unbelievable, most vermin children were abandoned were never bothered to be given names, "So did she come up with that out of the blue when she looked at our place?"

"No!" Fed up with Rayhne's persistence, Elenor handed to him the letter, hoping it would change his mind, "Just take a look at this."

"Oh." Rayhne frowned as he snatched the envelope from her pockets. "I really want to see what her excuse was for leaving their own son…" his words were put on hold as he begun reading the lines. Slowly, the cynicism in his eyes faded away as he delved deeper into the letter. A look of understanding washed over him as he considered the words, "I'll see what I can do for him."

"You mean we're keeping him?"

"This is a dying request." Rayhne waved the letter, "I'm sorry Elenor, I thought she was just making things up so she can leave him here. But this…she died for this child."

"Oh." Elenor took time to absorb the revelation. "Well…" Suddenly, she took the breath out of the otter as she unexpectingly swung her apron over his head. "So while make little Orphen get acquainted with his new home, I'm putting you in charge of the laundry hamper. So best of luck!"

"But I don't even know how to-." Rayhne tried to protest, but noticed the laundry basket distending from his stomach, "Oh, thank the heavens everyone's asleep."

* * *

Elena almost didn't care anymore if they heard her; she just wanted to cry so badly. But she argued there was always time to weep in the afterlife. Morning broke the night skies, returning light to the country. In addition, the heavy storms finally passed, leaving silence in the air. These welcoming sights were but taxing plights for Elena. There was no darkness to shroud her, no rain to deafen her sounds or to wash away the red trail she left from her wounds.

"Now that's odd. There's no more blood. Her footprints stopped too."

Elena didn't dare look from her hiding place. She remained as she was, laying face down under a shrubbery. Her body was completely covered in mud to blend in with the ground.

"Wait! I think I can see a speck of her blood on those bushes ahead."

Elena tried not to move, hoping it wasn't her hiding spot the weasel was speaking of. Her fears turned to relief as she listened **(missing word?)** her pursuers walk past where she laid.

"That's weird." Quizzed the pine marten again, "Her blood is here, but not her footprints."

"Aye." Noted his weasel companion; "She knows how to cover her tracks behind her if she had the time. But I guess she forgot to account about her injuries."

This was half true; Elena had to learn several things if she expected to survive. But even she didn't know how to cover her trail in the mud. This was why earlier she had flung her bloody paw forward, creating a fake trail for her pursuers to follow. Slowly, Elena crawled out from under the bush as quietly as she could. Whilst behind a tree, she inspected her pursuers one last time. They moved on further away, following her false trail. Slowly, she backed away, keeping an eye on the two. If Elena was lucky, she may be able to lose them for another day, buying her son a better chance. If she did get through this, she's resolved to travel southwards.

Her plans to mislead her chasers came to a blind hope when she found herself walking into the very reason she had been running. She froze, knowing who it was standing behind her. She barely fought as she was restrained firmly in one arm. It seemed to have robbed Elena of what little strength she had left. Her eyes showed horror, but her heart and breath only became faint.

"Hello Elena." Spoke the unseen ferret.

"Roth…"

The dark shadowed ferret raised his free arm, only to caress Elena's head with a gloved paw. But this only inspired tears to finally fall down Elena's cheeks, for she knew this gentle act was but a farce to his true nature.

"You took miserable." Roth continued, gazing at Elena's fear induced silence, "It saddens me to see you reduced to this."

She instinctively shut her eyes as Roth's paw traveled to her cheeks. He wiped as much mud away as he could, her tears helping with the process. "But you haven't been the only one who suffered all this time." Roth said, his voice becoming more malevolent, "You caused me many months of grief when you disappeared, adding another chapter to my miserable existence. I wanted to find you again so badly so I can rip our own child from your womb while you watch, for what you've done." Elena shivered as Roth's placed his palm below her chin, "But I'm alright now. It'd be ridiculous to hold a grudge for almost a year. Because seeing you like this, seeing what fate did to you, I know you suffered more than what I can ever do to you."

"It was…" escaped from Elena.

"What was that you said?" asked Roth, laying his chin down on one of Elena's shoulders.

"It was you who did this to me, not fate."

"Well, just goes to show what you did was a mistake." Roth replied, "But I rather we skip this banter. I doubt we can change each other's mind. No, what concerns me is that I still haven't found what I was truly looking for. From what I can see from your body…your beautiful body," He guided his paw to below her chest, reminding Elena of the same unsettling experience, "Our child has already been opened to the world, waiting to be found. Where is my child?"

"He's not your son." Elena spoke defiantly.

"Oh, so it's a boy." Roth sounded pleased by this, "Where is he?" he asked again.

"No…" although shaky, Elena remained strong in his presence.

"You're just making this hard on yourself." Roth's paw delved back below Elena's chin, "My offer still stands. Yes, his life will be miserable under my wing, but I promise that you'll be there with him, where you can teach him some semblance of decency."

"If anything, you'll raise him to kill me." Elena said back.

"Well, I can promise one thing at the very least." Said Roth, "If you don't tell me where he is, and I still find him," He warned her, "I will break him down. And you will watch from your afterlife as I make my son worthy of ruling hell itself. That's my intended plan for him, but I'm willing to hold back for your sake…Where. Is. He?"

"Even if I want to tell you, I can't." Elena replied, "Because even I don't know where he is anymore."

"What?" Roth's normally quiet tone exploded into rage.

"I gave him to someone a long time ago." She lied, "And I told that person to give our son to someone else, and to deliver him to someone else. Did you really think I'm that selfish to keep my son with me?" the passion in her eyes hid the lies in her words from Roth, "I didn't even give him a name when I gave him away. All this time you thought you were so close." She smiled, knowing that Roth bought the deceit. "But you've been following a husk these past few weeks."

"No! You lie!"

"You can torture me, like you did last time." Elena still smiled, "But my answer will still be the same, because it's the truth. You will never find him now; my son will have the normal life he deserves. And when you-."

Roth had enough, he reached up and jerked Elena's head sideways, twisting it far beyond what her neck could handle. Elena's entire body convulsed as the thread of her life was cut, but the shadowed male ferret made a quick effort to grab hold of her. But even so, Roth slowly sank to his knees, as if he regretted something in his actions. His actions became much more unpredictable as he folded his arms around Elena body into an embrace.

"You idiot…" Roth whispered quietly. "You idiot. He can't ever have a normal life; he'll never be able to. No matter what, one way or another something will awaken him. You…idiot." He buried his shadowed brow into Elena's blood matted body, "If I don't find him, fate will. And it will make his life more miserable than I can ever do to him…!"

Leaves rustled as several of Roth's followers emerged behind him. Most of them were surprised at the sight of their leader letting his emotional guard let down. But they all stood at attention when they saw Roth glance to them. "Bury her." He commanded them.

"Wait, you actually want her buried?" asked the inadequate rat, Loy.

"She may have been a fool." Roth muttered, turning to the rat, "But she deserves this respect for the commitment she showed for her child."

"But my lord." Loy protested, "We don't have any shovels. How are supposed to-." The rat's complaints ended up forfeiting his life. His compatriots backed away from him as Roth advanced on him. In one fell swoop, Roth executed the poor rat in the same manner he did to Elena.

"It's something called your claws." Roth stated to the corpse below him, and indirectly to his surviving followers. "The ground will be much softer since it rained. So I suggest you get to work before it dries up."

While some of them went to work to collect Elena's body, two of the cloaked followers tried to reach down to pick up Loy's corpse, but were halted by Roth's strict paw. "No, don't spare him the luxury of a grave. But do drag that thing as far away from here as possible. I don't want its presence to spoil this ground."

"There is still your son to account for." One of his hooded followers, Roth's second in command dared to speak, though he did raise a good point, "If what she said is true, it would be virtually impossible even for our resources to find him."

"No," Roth took one last look at Elena, "she was lying. She had to be. Remind me again, when was the last sightings of Elena with her son."

"Six days ago, at the tavern." Replied the hooded officer, "Pardon my doubts, but the report could've been inconclusive. The mouse was stoic when we interrogated him, he could've misled the date."

"Unlikely." Roth stated, "For now, let us work under the assumption that Elena desperately gave my son to the first person she found during the storm." He called his remaining followers to attention, "Have any one of you come across any sort of dwelling when you combed the forests? Kerwin, Jaelith. Report."

The marten and weasel froze as they were addressed, "No one." The weasel reported, "Except for maybe the tavern you mentioned, and the windmill two more days back. But our hidden sentries would've-."

"That's quite enough." Roth silenced the marten, then turned to the others, "Goth, Neywell."

"Nothing sir." They spoke unanimously.

Lastly, he turns to a lone rat, minus his late partner Loy, "Tesh?"

"N-." the rat considers, "No."

"You," Roth was very observant of the rat's pause, "you hesitated there for a minute."

"No!" Geth shook his head wildly, "I saw nothing."

"Don't lie to me." Roth smiled, at which point the rat knew the ferret was anything but happy.

"Well…" he may as well just spill it out, "The thing is, that I kind of got lost, and ended up in a big field."

"Oh." Roth would have left it at that, but the scared rat sealed his fate with his next words.

"But there was a building in the centre of it all."

"What?" the ferret nearly exclaimed his outrage. "Why didn't you tell me when we rendezvous?" And Tesh, not knowing why his leader was so angry, gave his best answer.

"It was an orphanage." The rat stammered, "She never would've dropped her kid off. We were too close behind her, so I figured tha-KIRK-!"

All of a sudden, the rat's vision turned to black, followed by the most excruciating amount of pain a person could ever experience in a second, before Roth's fingertips literally dug into his mind.

"It's incompetent things like you that made such a simple task drag for this long." Roth said to the corpse, the rat's head being held by his thumbs.

* * *

Elenor wiggled her fingers over the Orphen's crib, encouraging the baby to reach for her paw. Although the baby was willing to interact with her, Elenor recognized worry in the ferret's eyes, this being his very first day without his mother. Elenor was astonished however, that the baby was brave enough not to cry the first thing he woke up.

Rayhne stood by the windows, overseeing the multitude of children set loose to play in the fields. Occasionally, he would take a glance back to see Orphen. For most part, his eyes were fixed on the gates.

"A little fidgety isn't he?" he noticed the child's discomfort.

"I think he can recognize that I'm not his mother." Elenor replied, distracting the baby.

"I'm surprised he hasn't forgotten her already."

Elenor stopped her idle play, giving Rayhne a hard, accusing state, "You know, it's that kind of talk that turns people into what you expect them to be."

"I'm sorry." Rayhne apologized, struggling to overcome his upbringing, "It's just that – let's face it. We are endangering everyone here because of him. It's not his fault, but I do not want the other children to suffer because I tried to be kind to everyone."

"Rayhne, some of our children already have people thirsting for their blood, bounties even. How is Orphen any different?"

"No, those are bandits, nothing I can't handle. But this…" He glanced at Orphen, seeing something beyond the innocent youth, "I don't think I'll be able to protect us if the people after this boy are who I think they are." He turned back to the window, his gaze narrowing at a new sight, "And it seems I was right."

"What?" the mouse shot up in alarm, recognizing the dark change in Rayhne's tone.

"Does anyone else know about Orphen?"

"No." Elenor replied, scooping the little ferret in her arms. "Just about everybody was asleep when we bought him here."

"Good." This made things much easier for Rayhne, "I want you to bring him to my quarters, you know about the hiding place behind my mirror, you stay there until I come get you."

"What about you?"

"I'll try to throw them off." The otter planned, "Act like the bigot I am. Shouldn't be too hard."

* * *

Fiona didn't understand why Rayhne announced, or rather, ordered all the children to go play outside after the rain. This wasn't like him, he never approves of children caking themselves in mud. Her task was to monitor the children, grimacing as some of them literally rolled in the puddles to out-dirty each other. This was going to be hell for her wiping all those feet before they can come back inside.

Her objections were placed aside when she spotted a larger problem in the distance. New figures appeared from the forests, none looking friendly at all, or even woodlander.

"Get inside." She ushered all the children, "Everyone, get back inside!" Most of the orphans didn't need to be told as they ran back to their safe haven. Fiona herded the children as best she could, no longer caring the mess they would make inside, their safety was her top concern.

She counted all heads, mentally marking the children's names as they ran back to the orphanage. But when the line had finished, worry swept over her. Someone was missing

* * *

"Look at that, they've got children playing outside. They wouldn't do that if they knew we were coming."

"We still have to look inside."

"Captain." The pine marten felt safer now that's away from Roth's presence, "If I may."

"Go ahead." The hooded superior regarded Mazda.

"Why isn't Lord Roth investigating this place himself? If he's so sure, why stay behind?"

"The thing is, he isn't even supposed to be here. He cannot risk anyone discovering his connection to Elena. Someone may piece things together, and at that point it would be impossible to contain. Wet works can only achieve so much. No one can know he has a son, not until the right time to strike."

"Be to honest. I'm glad he didn't come." Said the weasel, "Whenever he does, he orders us to leave no witnesses. I mean," he covered his eyes, failing to clock the flashing memories. "The last time, he made the child watch his parents die. And then he made the kid kill himself. A child. That isn't normal. Roth didn't have to do that!"

"Then be glad that's all you've seen." Marked the captain, "I can no longer have a peaceful night thanks to him. Just do as he asks, and hope that all you'll have is nightmares for the rest of your life."

"Still, for a psychotic monster," an elderly fox nudged the captain, "there's a sick logic behind his madness."

The fox broke away from the group, walking up to a little hedgehog standing alone in the field, the only that was too frightened to run. The dibbun couldn't move. His eyes fixed on the source of his trauma. The old fox reached out, demonstrating his point by patting the dibbun on the head. "What? You thought I was going to eat you?"

"Jarric, look out!"

The rumbling ground gave the fox ample warning of the child's protector. He was wise to back away, curbing Fiona's desire to rake her claws through him.

"Don't you dare touch him!" the badger crouched, her arm crossed protectively in front of the child.

Several of the trackers immediately grasped their concealed weapons, but were ordered to stand down by the wave of the captain's paw, preventing a disaster from happening.

"No, don't give her a reason."

The captain walked ahead, signalling the others to stay where they were.

"See what I mean?" asked the smug fox.

"Not now." The captain stated firmly, before addressing the badger modestly, "I'm sorry for that. My name is-."

"Get out!" The badger snarled.

"…No ma'am. I don't believe my name is Getout." The captain tried to joke, but saw that it didn't avail. "I assure you, my friend here meant no harm."

"Good." Fiona wasn't the least convinced, "But it would help more if all of you get out of my sight."

"Gladly, if the caretaker of this establishment would answer a few questions." The captain pushed the badger's limits.

"We don't answer to your kind." Fiona decided to stand, trying to intimidate the captain.

"Then that shouldn't be a problem." Finally, the captain reached to unfurl his hood, replacing the badger's wary expression into that of shock, even wiping the trance from the dibbuns eyes.

"I…I don't…" Fiona was at lost. Never in her life would she ever expect a good beast to be associating with the likes of vermin.

"I'll take it from here." Rayhne tapped Fiona's arm, motioning her to carry the child to safety.

"But Rayhne." Fiona objected, not wanting to leave the caretaker alone.

"I got it." The otter assured her. Once he sent her off, he engaged the visitors, "From the looks of you, I doubt you're not looking to adopt a child."

"If you rephrase the question. Then yes, we are." Replied the captain, "Listen, I'll get straight to the point because time is short. We are here on official business."

"And does that somehow involve indoctrinating our youths under your wings?"

The captain brushed off the insult, "There is a fugitive in the surrounding areas. It's mandatory we comb the area."

"What did he do?" Rayhne kept a stoic demeanour when the captain stared straight at him in the eyes, looking for anything inconsistent between his expressions and claims.

"She." The captain clarified. "And I'm afraid we can't divulge much information on the fugitive's offence."

"Does this fugitive happen to be a child then?" Rayhne verbally prodded the captain, "You want her head for stealing a cookie?"

"Okay!" the agitation got to one of the captain's subordinates, "You're really starting to-."

"The suspect is a ferret." The captain kept things on topic, "She is in possession of a baby which happens to be our…client's as well. She is denying him equal possession of his son."

"That sounds like a messed up family." Rayhne remarked.

"You don't know the half of it." Said the weasel.

"Well," Rayhne began his charade, "I don't see why you're bothering me to ask about this ferret. I doubt you'll believe me if it's anything other than yes."

"I see your scepticism." Said the captain, "But please, take caution with this lady. She tends to place herself in a sympathetic light before kind woodlanders. She'll do anything to survive."

The otter nearly scoffed at the captain's claims, considering the ferret did quite the opposite. "As I said, you're wasting your time. Besides, it'd be stupid of her to come to a place like this."

"Actually, that's what we assumed during the first months, but that's how she threw us off. It's very likely she came here. Especially considering."

Rayhne was very worried how the captain phrased the last sentence. Did he know? "How so?"

"I rather not digress any further." The captain raised his paws modestly, "Hear me out, please. If you would kindly let us investigate your building. We promise not to lay a claw on any of the children."

Rayhne took a defensive stance, and rightfully so, "I need an approval for a search warrant from Madrigal."

At that reply, the captain's smile disappeared as his suspicions stirred, "We are above those people."

"Well, then I see no reason to let you in."

The captain turned around, looking beyond his comrades, into the trees. Fear arose when he saw the look of disapproval amongst the leaves. "Alright, that's it." He had enough of these games.

"You listen to me very carefully." The captain's cheery tone regressed to threatening, "Because I'm only going to say this one. If you make me turn back right now, someone else is going to step out of those forests. And he's not going to stop to smug words or bureaucracy. Whether or not the child is here, he will massacre every person here just for the hell of it. He'll make the children watch as he kills the people who took care of them. He will make the children kill each other. But he will leave you alive, watching through the very end." For the first time in years, Rayhne felt horrified, "I am not bluffing sir. He has done it. But I do not want this on my conscience. If you let me in, and you are telling the truth, he might just let you live."

Rayhne seemed to deliberate for a long time, long enough to try the captain's patience. "Alright. But you come alone."

* * *

"You're not like the others." Rayhne asked, as the captain inspected the empty crib, "How did you end up with them?"

"The better question is, why did I stay?" the captain ratified, proceeding to the next room "I try to preserve what they used to stand for. What they could've been proud for."

"Those days are long gone. Ever since he snuffed it out."

"You know about that?" the captain asked.

"Who else is capable of committing those threats of yours?"

For the next half hour, the captain's search went on silently, but thorough. Much to Rayhne's chagrin, the tracker interviewed some of the orphans, but with no results. Finally, when they came before a certain door.

"This is my room." Rayhne objected, grasping the handle before the captain could.

"I haven't torn down any mattresses all this time, have it?" The captain pressed down on the otter's paw, opening the door much to Rayhne's chagrin.

At first the captain made a short circle around the room, just as he always had. Rayhne began to stiffen as the captain opened his drawers, reaching inside for something out of sight. He inspected behind a bookcase, before pulling the novels and texts one by one. The worst was when the captain trailed his paw across the walls, stopping at the slightest crack in the paint. That was when Rayhne realized that the captain knew, somehow, he knew. Desperate, Rayhne tried his last option.

"Please." Rayhne tried to appeal to the captain, "Don't toy with me like this. You already know."

"Know about what?" the captain feigned an innocent smile, "The fact that you hid her tracks? And had the children play outside so their's can cover the barren patch? The others didn't see it, but I did."

"How could you do this?" Rayhne demanded, "How could you condemn this child, knowing that doing that will bring another generation of madness to this country?"

"Now I never mentioned that." The captain paused for a moment, "…you're one of them. Aren't you?"

Against all reason, Rayhne lunged at the provoker, ramming the captain into the wall by his throat. "Shut up."

Despite the vice on his air pipe, the captain continued to sputter his taunts, "Yes, I can see it now. The eyes of a survivor."

"Shut up."

"I knew it. You wouldn't have taken the boy in. Anyone in your position wouldn't have trusted her, no matter how much she would have begged. Not unless you knew the baby meant something important."

"Shut up."

"And you dare think of me as scum? Well let me tell you, you're no different from us. We would raise him to take the path of demons as is meant to be, but you want to make him a slave for your own purposes. The only difference is you painted his chains white."

"You shut your mouth right now!" The otter slammed the captain's head against the wall again. The noise of the scuffle roused an infant's cry from his hiding place, but the farce had long been revealed. "This land was at peace, before Roth changed everything. The balance has been broken, and there's no way to bring it back."

"Then why? Why do you keep protecting him?" the captain demanded.

"Because," Rayhne's voice suddenly became soft, for the sake of the baby, "he deserves to make his own path."

* * *

"You're sure about this." Roth spoke quietly, his words laced with discontent.

"I have searched everywhere, believe me sir." The captain patted his chest, emphasizing the truth, "I prodded the sacks. I felt the walls and floorboards. I even looked inside a cooking pot that could've fit a child. The caretaker let me inspected everywhere I wished, knowing I would waste my time."

"No. You had to have missed something." The ferret went in anguish denial.

"My lord." The captain raised his arms, "The tenant had a secret room in his quarters, but it was vacant. I'm…I'm sorry." He bowed with his arms still outstretched, expecting to be executed for his failure. For a moment Roth almost considered committing the deed, his claws just a hair from puncturing the captains' vitals. After hard consideration however, Roth pulled his arm away.

"No." Roth shook his head, "It couldn't be helped." He grumbled, struggling to keep his short temper contained. But amongst his inner fuming, an epiphany came to him, beaming his eyes. "Wait, this is perfect."

"What do you mean?" the weasel spoke on behalf of everyone, startled by the return of Roth's triumphant smile.

"The seeds of war have already been planted. Tragedy will then seek my son, awakening him for when that times. But try as he might, he will fail, and will be swimming in the blood of everyone he ever cared for. He'll be begging me to take him in." Roth had his paws half clenched, as if holding an invisible point no one can see, "So you see, it all works out. So you've delayed things further Elena, no problem, I can wait."


	2. Cries of the Past

21/08/09: I'd like to thank you all for your feedback, it makes everything feel worth it. But about that missing word bit. You see, my editor and I created a system that instead of fixing my mistakes, she points it out the mistakes by highlighting any grammatical and logical flaws, and then put her opinions in bold letters. From there, I correct the mistakes myself, hoping to get progressively better. But I guess even I screwed that up. Hehe. As for Roth, he's not so much chaotic evil as he is just…understandably intolerant. Enough of my ramblings, here is my second installments. Aside from the grammar overhaul, there is one important things that's changed.

* * *

It has been over seven years since that unfortunate night, but that was plenty enough time to bury the circumstances. Elenor didn't understand why she had been counting the days away since Orphen arrived, unlike the other children, which Elenor didn't bother to keep a mental record. Not once did she recall of a child who arrived at their doorsteps under happy circumstances. To be an orphan is sad enough. But this had only strengthened the maid's resolve to give all these younglings the childhood they deserve.

Tonight, Elenor assisted in the kitchen, helping the resident cook prepare a meal for a small army of orphans. This wasn't her happiest evenings. She couldn't see anything beyond the kitchen window; only the rain blurring the glass, and the occasional lighting of the skies following by the sounds of thunder. It was a habit of her to sigh on nights like this, "Such a depressing weather."

"Well that's your opinion. I happen to like these kinds of showers." Rayhne replied.

"Is it because your name sounds like that weather?" Asked the cook, a badger, whilst scooping some diced onions into a steaming pot.

"Well yes, but that's just one of the reasons." Rayhne admitted, "Sure, it's cold darn uncomfortable when it gets in your fur. But at the same time it gives to everything."

"But the little ones get so scared during these kinds of nights." Elenor pointed out, "They're afraid that one of the lightings might hit them. I can't say I blame them. I used to have that fear when I was their age."

"And that's exactly the reason why I'm brewing this stew." The badger smiled, "Food is a painkiller to these I just need a stem of…" it was when he took a glance at the cutting board did the badger realize that something was amiss. "Rayhne, I seem have two extra potatoes, minus a celery and carrot."

* * *

Although still little, Orphen had aged surprisingly well. His fur matched the foggy grey interior of the master stairs, with several dark lines running up on his headfur. His eyes were deep and blue, still gleaming like that of a newborn. The small ferret was free of the certain air his kind possessed, no look of disdain or hate for everything around them. It would make many question what a difference it would make if only a vermin child was raised in happiness.

Like most children though, Orphen had his playful tendencies often bordering on honest mischief. What else was there to do on a stormy night? He had armed himself with a carrot, playfully duelling with his best friend Emma. And although a year younger than the ferret, she proved to be an equal combatant with her celery.

"Hyah!" Emma attempted to jab Orphen with her 'sword', forcing the ferret to retreat, grabbing onto a curtain tassel to escape the blow, "There's no escape now, fiend!"

"Ah! But you forget!" Orphen said smugly, "I have the high ground, and wield the almighty carrot!" held his orange vegetable out, imagining himself in a heroic pose. Emma saw her chance and jabbed her own vegetable upwards under Orphen's arms.

"Oh! I'm hit!" Orphen faked a grimace, falling from the curtains and rolling over the floor. Emma failed to stifle a giggle and soon burst into laughter as her friend over dramatized his death throes. "I smell flowers! I see a bright light!"

"I see two little brats in big trouble." The dibbuns froze as Rayhne stormed into the hall and hastily tried to conceal the vegetable behind their backs. Of course their efforts were futile, on the count their makeshift weapons poked from behind their backs. Rayhne maintained his stern expression has he held out his paws.

"Give." Knowing there was no easy way out of this, Orphen and Emma surrendered their healthy weapons into Rayhne's paws. The adult otter tapping his foot on the ground, not pleased at the kits blank expressions. "Well? Don't you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"Um…" Emma nervously spoke up, "We were bored."

"I was expecting an apology, but I guess that's the best I'm ever going to get out of you." Rayhne knelt down, waving the vegetables in his paws to emphasize his point, "These are food, not toys. I'm not having the entire place crying because you two were bored."

"But you took our wooden swords!" Orphen protested.

"And I had good reason to." Rayhne held stern. "I know where you're going with this and you're not getting them back. You two really hurt when you play with those." His memories sparked a phantom pain to flare up in his joints.

"Pwease mista Rain?" Orphen pleaded, cupping his paws below his chin in a pleading manner. For a moment this seemed to affect Rayhne, but he shook his head at the realization of the game they're playing.

"That may work on strangers, but after spending years with you, I learned to see what's really behind those eyes of yours. Fool me nine times, shame on you. Fool me ten times, well, shame on me." Rayhne muttered at the last words.

"But we just wanted to save the world." Emma joined in the act. Although their intentions were obvious, her words managed to strike a chord in Rayhne.

"Well, you two were doing a terrible job if that was how you're going to protect it." Rayhne referred to their swordplay, "I really should teach you how to use a sword properly if you're ever going to survive out there."

"You will?" Orphen's eyes lighted up.

"Until you stop using my legs as target practice then we'll talk about it." He ruffled Orphen's head, much to Orphen's sudden plea for him to stop. By the time Rayhne was done, Orphen's head was a mess, standing out in uneven places and fluffing out. And whilst Orphen was desperately trying to flatten his headfur, his friend couldn't help but laugh. Seeing Orphen embarrassed like this was enough retribution for Rayhne.

"Tell you what." The otter took pity on the two. "If I tell you where your sticks are, will you promise to do something for me?" Both orphans nodded enthusiastically, "I hid it inside your room."

Rayhne couldn't help but grin as the children's jaws dropped. Emma turned angrily at Orphen, on the verge of slapping him, "I told you so!"

"Now you know the deal." Rayhne reminded them.

"Fine." Orphen surrendered to their fate, "Do you want us to clean our rooms this time?"

"No, I want you to clean yourselves." Rayhne stood up, "You two need a bath."

The kits had just realized the trap they had fallen in, and stared up at their caretaker resentfully.

"You're evil." Orphen grimaced.

"Who really is? You, or me?"

"You!" Emma pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah but it was your fault that have fallen for your own trick." Rayhne stated.

"Um…um…" Orphen stuttered, trying to think a way out of this. Then suddenly he pointed to somewhere behind Rayhne, "Behind you!"

"Pvvt!" the otter rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner, "I'm not falling for that one again."

"You're right." Orphen gazed down coyly, "It's just the twins."

"Again, I am not going to look behind me." He would later wish he should have, as a familiar wobble of a vase and a shatter reached his ears.

"That didn't just happen." Rayhne spun around, catching sight of an otter's rudder slipping past a corner, which was the cause of the loss of a good vase. "Don't think that's gonna let you slip from-."

Rayhne came to also regret having turned his back on the kids. Having realized he let the perpetrators of the vase and vegetable swords escaped, he had every right to growl to himself. In a self-loathing manner, he counted to himself, "Wait a second. Seven…ten times they tricked me…shame on me."

* * *

"Is he following us?" Emma asked frantically, looking over a corner.

"Nah. I bet he's counting how many times this happened."

"Wow, you're so smart Orphen." The squirrel complimented her friend. "How do you do it?"

"It's simple really. Grownups think that just because they are bigger, that means they're smarter." Orphen tapped his noggin to emphasize his point. "Rayhne may be big, but his brain sure isn't."

Emma burst in all out laughter, and even Orphen couldn't help but crack up at his own joke. But his victory was cut short as something grabbed the back of his shirt, lifting him over the ground.

"But you forget dear lad, fools like to talk about how smart they are." said a badger. She looked very intimidating up close to Orphen, even while wearing a dotted nightgown. Orphen did his best to make a wide smile, calling her by her nickname.

"Hi Fefe!"

But Fiona wasn't amused in the least; she learned to never fall for the adorable ploy after the first incident. The badger maid stopped for a moment as something caught her nose. She sniffed at Orphen's cheek, looking deplorably at him as she realized the wretched smell originated from him. "And when's the last time you took a bath. Hmm?"

"Umm…" The cub's eyes betrayed him. "Yesterday?" His pitiful attempt to lie almost forced his captor to smile.

"That smell like a week to me. Now I want you to-hey!" The badger maid was surprised at Orphen's resilience. The little ferret lifted his arms, allowing him to easily slip out of his shirt and land. He used his small stature to his advantage, crawling between the badger's legs. He laughed childishly at his triumph, almost mockingly. All Fiona needed was a step forward to reach for Orphen, grabbing him by the napeof his neck. "Well that's a new one." She was impressed, "It's too bad you can't slip out of your own hide, eh?" Orphen tried to struggle away, but every time he twisted and turned, his fur would tangle uncomfortably in Fiona's paw.

"Emma, run for it! Save yourself!"

"Too late" He hadn't noticed that all this time his caretaker had Emma firmly hanging by her tail.

"I don't wanna take a bath! I don't wanna!" Orphen complained as he and Emma were carried across the halls, being shed of their clothes in preparation. "I already took one a week ago."

"At that rate, you'll be growing mushrooms from your back." Fiona tried to scare them.

"Then you should be happy." Emma interjected. "At least we wouldn't have to go hungry."

If her paws weren't busy holding the dibbuns, Fiona would've slapped herself out of frustration. "Please…what's so wrong about baths?" She questioned the two, "You're not going to drown."

"Remember the lake?" Orphen reminded Fiona.

"Well…that's different." Fiona hesitated. "Tubs don't have leeches." The badger mom kicked the door to the bathing room open, much to the cub's distress.

"But-but!" Emma stuttered. "You got the water from the lake, how can you be so sure there won't be leeches?" At that point, they actually succeeded in making her stop. The badger thought that over very carefully.

"You know what?" She brought lifted them both up to meet her gaze. They looked assured that they had actually gotten to her until she said, "Let's find out."

And dropped them.

Their wails and protests were cut short as they both splashed in the tub. Again they splashed as their heads emerged from the waters. They shivered, forced to hug themselves.

"It's freezing!" Orphen chattered.

"Well, if you came sooner the water wouldn't have been." Fiona pointed out. "Can I trust you two to behave yourselves and be cleaned up when I come back?" The kits smiled earnestly, and Fiona actually believed them for a second. But the moment she closed the dor behind her, she could hear watery carnage ensuing behind the doors. With no children in sight, Fiona could show her true face, an exhausted badger. She literally fell from the trial, with only the wall to catch her.

"You're wearing out?" After a while, Fiona wearily looked down at Elenor, whom was busy tidying up the orphanage, evident by her laundry hamper.

"Yes." Fiona admitted to her friend. Elenor sat down next to the badger lady, trying to recover from scrambling all over the mansion. But childish giggles from the other side of the room roused Elenor's attention.

"Is that…?"

"Yep, our special case." Fiona said as she rubbed her brow, "One minute he's the most precious thing. But the next he can be such a scamp."

"But he's our scamp Fiona."

"True, true." The badger agreed. "Sometimes I feel bad for him."

"Whatever do you mean?" Elenor looked up questionably.

"This country has changed a lot for the better. Things have finally calmed down." The badger mom paused a moment, "At the same time, it changed for the worst. There's never been a day of peace, not like the old days. It would be almost impossible for someone like Orphen to live in a world like that. Like how his mother-."

"Don't say that." Elenor cut Fiona short.

"Keeping quiet about it won't change anything Elenor."

"I know, I know…" neither of them wanted to continue the conversation at that point. But luckily for them Orphen and Emma's intervention broke the solemn moment. The sight of them sharing the same towel almost made their caretakers smile.

"We're finished!" Orphen announced. But he began noticing something was wrong by the difference between Elenor's eyes and her smile. "What's wrong miss Elly?"

"Oh, I'm just tired." Elenor lied. She was firm as she used the towel to dry them off properly. Emily giggled, but Orphen didn't seem too happy about it.

"Stop it!" Orphen protested, pulling away as Elenor dried off his headfur. Everybody, except for Orphen namely, laughed at his fur's tendency to puff in all directions.

"Can you handle these two alone?" Fiona asked.

"I've been handling them especially for years." Although she was much smaller in stature, the mouse maid managed to hold the two children firmly in her harms, "It's bedtime for you now."

"But we don't wanna go to bed!" Orphen complained, "We already went to bed yesterday."

* * *

The cat and mouse games had been going on ever since Orphen learned to crawl, mainly to avoid sleeping or bathing. A week had passed, and once again Elenor had to play the cat. She routinely patrolled the halls for any stray pieces of clothing lying around. Even after years working here, she was amazed how big this manor was. The decorations indicated a long history, but she felt it was such a shame it was lost. At least now, this building is used to house in unfortunate souls who had lost their parents. There were a dozens of orphans sharing the orphanage, and there was still plenty of room to house in tenfold, but Elenor hoped it would never come to that. The only thing Elenor regrets is that there were more things to tidy up in such a large space. She inspected Orphen and Emma's room, discovering articles of his clothing lying about. She was glad he was becoming more obedient about taking baths, forgetting about the leech incident. If only she could get him to hang up his clothes properly. "Orphen, dear? You really have to stop throwing clean clothing on…" She realized Orphen had his back turned to her, which was uncommon of him. But then she noticed the kit looking out from his window, staring intently below. Elenor knew what he was starting at, hearing the news of an eager otter wanting a daughter.

Orphen was silent as she inspected over his shoulder. Below was an orphaned otter-girl, no longer an orphan. She walked nervously towards the gate ahead of her, her paw joined with an adult male. Her newfound father sensed her apprehension, and leaned down to give consoling words that were too far to reach Elenor. The little girl's expression brightened, putting full trust in her father and embraced him. Her father, likewise, picked her up holding her up over his head. He placed her behind his head, giving her full view of the new world beyond the gates. Elenor felt disheartened, knowing Orphen yearned to experience that moment, something she knows he never will.

"Miss Elly?" Orphen spoke up.

"Yes?"

"Am I different?" Elenor sighed deeply as she heard the dreaded question. She knew he would ask her one-day, she had just hoped he was older.

"Now why would you say that?" She tried to avoid the subject.

"I don't know." His voice was quiet. "Sometimes I feel there is something wrong with me."

"Well I for one don't think there's anything wrong with you." Elenor tried to assure him. But her efforts proved all in vain when the next question settled in.

"Elly? What does vermin mean?"

Elenor tried to stifle a gasp, to not frighten the poor ferret. "Who called you that?" she demanded. Orphen kept staring at the departing father, gazing at the culprit. Elenor sighed, knowing the otter was out of her bounds at this point. She knelt down to Orphen's height, doing her best to explain the meaning. "Vermin…is what certain type of people…" she tried not to indicate Orphen is born as such, "like to call other's who have been very bad."

"So I've been bad?"

"What? No." Elenor said honestly, "There's nothing bad about you."

"He didn't like me though." Orphen said sadly, he was trying to press for more answers, but Elenor had to cut it short.

"Well, he's a very bad person for saying that. Whatever people say about you, you're not different, understand?"

"Um…" The kit looked down, pondering. Then he looked right up at his caretaker, beaming a smile for her stake, "Okay! I understand."

But Elenor knew that Orphen was too young to understand these kinds of things, but it was better his young mind wasn't able to comprehend the harsh words that otter uttered. Elenor put up a brace face as she patted Orphen towards the door.

"Come on now, you have lessons today."

"Okay!" Orphen cooperated with her, "I'll be really good this time, I promise."

"That's…" the mouse's voice nearly cracked, "that's nice."

* * *

Over a decade has passed, the effects of time beginning to weigh down on Elenor's body. But her mind is still sharp, not once faltering in her resolve to help the children under her care. She flung a white sheet over the first of many tables outside, humming to herself as she tidied the corners and winkles. Everything outside was full of activity; the other caretakers were arranging the furniture's and decorations to celebrate the birth of spring. It was Rayhne's idea, inviting any woodlanders in the vicinity as they were too far from any other settlements to make the journey to. It was also part of his plan to present the orphans to the adults for adopting. But time after time, they refused to adopt the one being who may have truly deserved to have a family. Elenor truly felt sorry for Orphen, ever since his revelation of what he is, and why no one wanted him. But he remained strong, happy, and Elenor wished he would remain that way for the rest of his life.

The other orphans were supposed to participate in preparing the festival, but they were all acting as if the festival has already started. Elenor watched a young mouse play hide and seek with her friend, using the tables and props as hiding places. Just as the mouse lifted one of the sheets over a table, a grey ball of fur leaped out just before the mouse could tag it. The cat sprinted all across the open, making the task of tagging him hopeless for the mouse. Yes, a wild cat. She only hoped he would have better chances than Orphen.

A greying Rayhne exited from the orphanage, reading over a pamphlet that listed the details that had to be done. He took one long look at the progress before him, and like all perfectionists, he wasn't too happy. "Who forgot to trim the grasses before we started putting out these tables, and what have I said Corey? The spoons go on the left; the forks and knives go on the right. Fork first, then knife!"

Elenor could only shake her head as the otter continued ranting; all he's doing is stressing himself out. "Easy Rayhne." she tried to calm him down, "You're going to catch on fire if you keep this up."

"But this is a disaster." It was obvious Elenor wasn't able to douse the flames, "Some of our guests came early and they're already here. There are untidy weeds all around outside the gates. And we haven't even started cleaning up inside the-." All of a sudden, somebody snatched the pamphlet right out of Rayhne's paws, smacking him in the face with it. He was stunned for a moment, but it seemed to smack the panic right out of him. "Thanks," he said the maiden that brought sense back into him. "I needed that."

"Oh, you actually needed to be smacked?" Joked Emma.

Elenor regarded the fully-grown maiden standing before her. She couldn't help but marvel at the adult she is becoming. But that was the problem; she's no longer a child anymore. Elenor remembered how Emma was always afraid of potential couples that visited to adopt a child. A few times, someone would take interest in Emma. But all of a sudden, she faked a tantrum, which put the couple off. Maybe she didn't want to leave, Elenor supposed. Perhaps she didn't want to leave friends behind. The mouse maiden stared at Emma carefully, on the outside, Emma appeared to be strong willed, and so happy. But Elenor knew the squirrel for what she is, having spent all these years with her. She still needs to be taken care of. She'll need someone to look after her when she leaves.

It was a cruel concept, and Elenor has always argued with Rayhne about this matter. But whenever one of the orphans failed to succeed to be accepted into a family, and reached a certain age where they're no longer considered children, they're to be sent away to live on their own, having no clue or direction on where to go in their lives.

"Hello!" Emma waved her paw around Elenor's eyes, bringing the mouse of her trance.

"What?"

"I asked if you've seen Orphen around."

"Oh." Elenor wiped at her weary eyes, "I think he's up in your room packing."

"Packing?" Emma asked questionably.

"He's been officially an adult since last spring." Rayhne spoke up, "He spent a lot of time thinking, and informed be he'd be leaving after the winter settles down."

"But…" Emma stammered, "He still has time, three more years right?"

"Emma, it's not about time." Rayhne said, "At his age, nobody's going to take him in, he knows that now."

"I can't believe I forgot." Sighed Emma, it must've been the preparation for the party that was drowning the dread.

"Rayhne," Elenor spoke to the otter, "before he leaves though, we have to tell him about-."

"Yes, I haven't forgotten about it." The otter assured Elenor, "Take over for me, I'll be back."

Emma could only glance back and forth between them, unaware of what fully transpired during Orphen's arrival. "Tell him about what?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing." Elenor forced a smile, "He's just going to give Orphen one of those awkward goodbye talks he always does, it seems to lighten the mood in a way though." She lied and forced a smile, not wanting to worry Emma.

* * *

"Maybe if I put this here…and here…and this here…done." Orphen mumbled to himself as he rearranged all of his personal items in the bag, but the sight of this bag struck him something odd, "I can't believe my entire life up to now is inside this bag."

But with the packing issue solved, Orphen took the liberty to examine his reflection in a mirror, comparing himself from when he used to be just a child. He may have lost that natural adorable face, but Orphen couldn't be gladder to have grown out of that. And in a way he managed to have gained a whole different kind of beauty, much thanks to his upbringing. The unique black lines have broadened among his headfur over the years. He's become taller, and prepared his physique and body for all the dangers Rayhne had warned him about. He's lucky to have aged this well so far. But apparently no mother would want her child to have this face. He snickered to himself, remembering the exaggerated remarks a portly mother made during a search for a child to adopt. He flattened the winkles over his grey trousers, and rolled up the sleeves over his blue shirt to look more presentable. But he stopped midway in fixing his shirt collar as he spotted Rayhne leaning against the door.

"How long were you standing there?"

"Sixty eight seconds."

"Ooh." The ferret grimaced. "…six more and I would've broken the record." The otter didn't seem the least fazed by the light hearted joke however, but Orphen paid no attention to Rayhne's expression, paying more attention in aligning his sleeves, "Did Elenor send you up here? I told her I'd be down helping, eventually."

"No, just me." Even after so many years, Rayhne couldn't think of a proper way to break up the news to Orphen. Right now he's just improvising. He kept one arm behind him, concealing something from Orphen's eyes.

"So what is it?"

"Have you ever wondered how you ended up in the orphanage?"

Orphen stopped fumbling for a moment, what an odd question to ask. But several revelations came to the ferret's mind, subjects he should've asked about. "I never really thought about it."

"It's because you didn't want to." Rayhne answered, "Common knowledge that the circumstances of a child becoming an orphan is always tragic."

"What are you getting at?" Orphen tensed up, as if he was preparing to be struck.

"Everyone who came and went, they asked me about their parents at one point. If I knew who they were, what they did and used to be. But you never did, not once."

"Okay, okay." Orphen knew there was no way around this conversation, "It's just that, I figured my parents are the kind of people I wouldn't be proud of. All I could think of are bad possibilities…please don't make me list them out."

"Well you can bury those fears." Assured Rayhne, and presented to Orphen an envelope. But the sight of the piece of paper seemed to swing Orphen more into unease rather than relief. He even took a step back.

"This…" Orphen couldn't finish the words.

"When Elenor found you on our doorsteps, you had two letters placed between your arms, written by your mother." Rayhne began to explain, "The first was addressed to me, or anyone who would take care of you. She pleaded to me to raise you right, or to give you to anyone who could. But she also asked of me that when I feel that you're old enough, and ready, that I should give you her letter to you. Looking at you now, you're still not ready, but there's never going to be a better time."

"She…" realizing he wasn't going to budge on his own, Rayhne placed the letter into Orphen's paw. It seemed to bring the ferret back to some of his senses. Very slowly, Orphen unfolded the paper, and suddenly felt a familiar voice as he read the words.

_My dearest son,_

_I fear and hope together that you would read this letter. This would mean that you are alive and safe, but this would mean that I was forced to abandon you. I am having so much trouble finding the words to write to you. I think you would be a full grown adult by the time you read this, when right now as I'm writing this letter, you're only a baby, dreaming in my lap. There are so many things I want to say to you, things I can't say, but I don't want to lie to you. When I conceived you, you were a mistake. You had your father to thank for that. But I loved you the minute I looked at your face for the first time. When I saw that you had my eyes, I knew that you were nothing like your father. The world blessed you by giving you my features and soul. Your father however, he never loved you, he only saw you as an object to inherit his illusion of a kingdom. He would have raised you into something even monsters would fear, he wanted to raise you into something that was worst than him. That's why I ran, and I never once regretted the sacrifices I made, the only regrets I had were the sacrifices others made for our sake._

_A part of me is saying that my time in this world is short, but a part of me already knew that. I swore that I will protect you my son, even if it means depriving myself of you. This may not seem important, but I love you. I don't want you to think I left you because I didn't love you. Wherever I left you, under a bandit's care, a hermit's home, an orphanage, or even that red stone abbey, I know that you'll have a better life, a normal life. Know that whatever happens to you, you are not your father. Remember that you are whoever you choose to be, not because of your father's parentage. Your path is never determined by fate unlike others, you are destined to choose your own fate. These words will mean something if the time ever comes, which I hope you never have to experience._

_I wish I could watch you grow up, I wish I could be there for you. I wish we could have had the time that was taken away from us. My son, my dearest Orphen._

My family name is Caster, and you share my name, a name you can never utter to anyone but your mind. Even if you're an adult, your father will never cease to look for you. Please, please don't look for your father. Your vengeance can be his failure to find you. For your own sake, don't ever let him find you. There is nothing left for me to say to you, my honest goodbyes.

_I love you,_

_Elena Caster._

Orphen couldn't understand, these were the words of a loving mother, why couldn't he believe these words came from her. This revelation solved his fear, but it created a new feeling of turmoil. All of a sudden, Orphen experienced years of sorrow of losing someone he loved.

"Are you okay?" Rayhne asked, after inspecting Orphen's expression.

"That depends." Orphen leaned back to the wall, slowly sinking down until he was sitting. He put a paw to his brow as he began rereading the letter again, "Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"I didn't think you would be able to handle this, and I can see that you aren't." Orphen was upset, but he knew Rayhne was right about that. Rayhne avoided eye contact as he continued, "Orphen, I know you're mad at me, but-."

"No." Orphen spoke more loudly, "No, its not you I'm upset about. It's just that I can't believe the person who killed my mother would be my own…" he covered his face immediately when a sniffle escaped from his throat, "I'm-I'm sorry. Is this normal for me to do this?" he tried to smile as he wiped the tears forming in his eyes.

"Well it wouldn't be if you didn't." Rayhne sat alongside of Orphen, "Where do I start…I honestly don't know how to make you feel any better. Heck, it's usually Elenor who does these kinds of things. Heck, I keep forgetting how old you are." That seemed to have got Orphen's attention, "Heck, I'm saying heck too much." Orphen managed to laugh, "Hey.." Rayhne pointed at Orphen, "You're smiling." Realizing he couldn't hide it, Orphen removed his paws from his lips. "So are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah…I just need a little more time to take this all in."

"All right then." Rayhne patted Orphen on the shoulder as he got up, "I really got to get the festival ready before the guests arrive." He opened a slit in the window blinds, "Well, what do know, it already started. So are you coming Orphen?" There was just a frost of silence, leading to a straight answer, "Right then, just don't stay cooped up in here for too long. The party will take some weight off your mind, I assure you."

* * *

For a very long while, Orphen remained seated in the exact spot, he didn't know how long he had been moping like this. It certainly wasn't an hour, but it seemed like days in his mind. Orphen couldn't understand. De's come to terms with his mother and accepted his linage. He should feel grateful that at least one of his parents loved him. It was a lot better than what he once imagined his parents were. But he couldn't help but feel there was something more to him and his parents than what his mother wrote in her letter. She warned him about something that may happen later in his life, something that she wanted him to avoid other than his father.

Orphen surveyed his side bedroom, his home for the past eighteen years. Aside from his packed belongings, the cabinet and covers were empty. And the whole sterile room was shrouded in darkness. The only source of light was the festival outside.

"_Rayhne was right, this really is a depressing sight."_ Orphen thought. He looked at the other side of the bedroom, Emma's side. All her cabinets were crammed with her belongings, while his side was sterile and empty. He really felt bad about leaving Emma alone in here, this would be a very depressing sight for her whenever she comes here from now on. _"If only…"_ he thought to himself.

Orphen closed his eyes as he recited his title, "Orphen Caster." He felt glad, a moment ago he had his first name to go by. He was proud to bear his mother's name, even though he can never say it to others.

Orphen's ears perked to attention as he heard a familiar imitation of a battle happening on the other side of his thin walls. The ferret stood up, groaning as his stiff muscles were forced to move, the downside of sitting down for too long. After snapping his joints back into place, Orphen went to inspect outside of his room. A small weasel and mouse toddlers were passing by, fencing with sticks. They were imitating a pirates voice, pretending the orphanage was their ship. Orphen smiled, remembering when he had their wild imaginations, "And so the cycle starts all over again." Orphen emerged from his room when he was sure he was out of the dibbun's jabbing range. As he proceeded downstairs, he spotted a few woodlander couples having an acquainted conversation indoors. Orphen used to be so afraid of them when he was a child. When everyone discovered that the orphanage housed a ferret, they regarded him as a social stigma, expecting the worst from him. Which is why he would always avoid the yearly festivals, until Emma dragged him outside. He should thank her for that though, because as the years passed, everyone got used to him, and it indirectly led to Wellman's orphanage to truly accept anyone.

But tonight, Orphen is going to abandon those fears. He stepped outside, preparing to make his last night worthwhile.


	3. Last Night of Peace

21/09/09: In my opinion, this chapter and the last was the hardest to (re)write. I never realized how lovey dovey I made things seem before I pushed everyone into hell. It took a lot out of me (and my editor especially) not to make my characters skip on the yellow brick road, if you catch my drift. And once more, I got too dreamy when I described the other cast as if they were radian gods. For the record SnuffSnuff, I am acutely aware of that fact. But you deserve to slap me for still making the mistake of displaying them as a bunch of Mary's and Gary's. Anyways, buckle up people, because...the title of this chapter speaks for itself.

* * *

Ten years ago, Rayhne Wellman had begun to host festivals at his orphanage to commemorate the beginning of a new spring. He invited everyone to attend the celebration. It was also a good opportunity for the now adopted children to hold a reunion. Although such celebrations were usually held at Redwall Abbey, everyone who lived near the Wellman's Orphanage simply lived too far away to make the trip.

Rayhne's idea was put into motion. Many woodlanders had gathered for the party. it served as a happy occasion for the orphans. If they were lucky, some of the visitors would choose to take one of the orphans as their own children. At first, the festival was going along splendidly, until one of the guests spotted a ferret in their midst.

Least to say, Orphen's first festival very unpleasant. He remembered many of them sharing shadowed whispers as they stared at him accusingly like he was the black sheep of the orphans. They expected the worst from little Orphen, chiding him rudely when he tried to say hello to them. For the first time, he felt like he was truly alienated from everyone else. This marked the night Orphen was beginning to become aware something was physically wrong with him. He recalled of an old hedgehog that had said very hurtful things to him, listing the terrible crimes Orphen's kind did to his family.

The memories of that night greatly unsettled Orphen for many years. Although the hedgehog's words were but blind anger, it made young Orphen feel demeaning, filthy, and in a way responsible for the insinuations. What did made Orphen cry was when the hedgehog exclaimed that his kind was the reason why most of the orphans lost their parents. Before the ranting continued, Elenor and Rayhne stepped in, berating the hedgehog fiercely for scarring Orphen's mind. Several of the guests even joined in, scolding the hedgehog for going too far with his accusations. Ever since that night, Orphen learned about the heritage of his race, his ties to them, and the circumstances of how all his friends became orphans. Little Orphen spent many months blaming himself for everything his kind had done, hating himself for being evil. The only thing that brought his fragile mind together was Elenor's assurance that people are only evil because of what they do, not because of what they are.

Over the past ten years, Orphen would lock himself up in his room during every spring festival. He was afraid of feeling their hateful stares on him, and enduring their blames. Emma would convince him somehow to join the party, promising that it would be better this time. And she was right, with every passing year; the guest's hateful attitudes towards Orphen became less frequent. They began to see that he was not a wild brat that they expected, but as the innocent child he really was. The hate and the grudges were soon forgotten, allowing Wellman's Orphanage to include more vermin orphans under its care.

But as much as the forest dwellers had come to respect Orphen over the years, he knew deep down that none of them would be willing to adopt him, it was simply too taboo for them. Orphen was fated to venture out into the world on his own when he became of age.

* * *

"Orphen, is that you?" asked one of the guests "My word, every year you look more like a noble beast than a ferret."

"Um, thanks." Orphen was kind enough to reply, although he knew the guest was just flattering Orphen for his sake.

Orphen usually knew the outdoors from the inside out. But with the festival going on, Orphen felt like he was in a maze of people. Chairs and tables had been crammed inside the orphanage's grounds to accommodate the sheer number of guests and orphans. Lanterns were hung up on strings overhead, keeping the festival alive. Every table had been draped over by violet sheets, already prepared with plates and utensils. The real thing to marvel about was all the food prepared at the side, prepared days in advance.

It all started as a show of generosity for the guests. And every spring since then, Rayhne became more obsessed on making the next festival better than the last. This time, the otter actually hired people to guard the desserts. It was a smart idea, but Orphen didn't understand how anyone could resist all those delectable…

Orphen felt something moist from the corners of his lips, soon realizing that he was drooling. He quickly wiped it away, hoping no one saw him. Had he not had fur, the crowd would have saw how red he had become underneath. He proceeded to walk, hoping to find Emma amongst the crowd.

Not long after that, a pair of paws draped over Orphen's eyes, making him yelp in surprise. He relaxed, remembering this trick in his young years, "Guess who?" His friend asked in a singsong manner.

"Emma." Orphen smiled "cut it out, we're too old for that."

"Nope, guess again."

"What?" Orphen reached to pry the person's paw off.

"Ah-ah-ah. No peaking." Orphen touched the stranger's paw, feeling right away that it wasn't Emma's. The paws were webbed between the fingers, and the claws were much too sharp for a squirrel.

"Okay, that one counts as cheating." The stranger let slip the brashness in her voice, the final clue to betray her identity.

"…Tatanya?" Orphen guessed again.

The otter uncovered Orphen's eyes, laying her chin on his shoulders so he could get a good look of her face. Her fur was deep brown, and beyond Orphen's sight she was clothed in a bright yellow shirt and leggings. The otter willingly had her sleeves and pant legs ripped to the shoulders and knees. A few gold earrings hung from her ears, but it only served to distract others from her deep sea-green eyes.

Tanya is one of the rare females who abide to the expectations of a fragile damsel, rather she focuses on her brawn and muscles, almost surpassing Orphen's prime. All the shirts she owns were ripped by the sleeves to display her strength. Rather than just a pretty face, her face mirrored determination and strength, beauty in its own right.

Elenor always considered Tatanya to be one of the troublemakers of the orphanage, always catching her picking on the children while showing off. Orphen was close enough to see the real side to the otter. The children she would bully were in fact bullies themselves. She's had a soft spot for the orphans, being picked on at Wellman's, going as far to defend them fervently. When she first arrived at the orphanage, she was as frail as any child. Eventually, she grew up inspiring the children that even the most fragile can become as strong as her.

Orphen grimaced a little as Tatanya embraced him as tightly as she could. She displayed her strength, succeeding in lifting Orphen's feet off the ground. "First off," the otter pointed out, "it's just Tanya. Tatanya just sounds too formal right now. How many times do I have to remind you like this?" She demonstrated by lifting him higher.

"Just everyday." Orphen croaked. He managed to free one of his arms to pat Tanya on the shoulders. She got the idea and released him, giving Orphen some fresh air to breath. "So…" he panted, "Have you seen Emma around here?" he asked.

"Actually, she's…" When the realization struck her, Tanya gasped purposefully to Orphen, "You mean to tell me you left your room all by yourself? Wow, you're finally becoming a big boy."

"Hey!" Orphen ducked away in time as Tanya was about to pat his head, for the sake of messing his fur, "You're one to talk. You're younger than me."

"By two months, but that proves just how much of a big baby you are." Like Orphen, Tanya will have to leave the Orphanage when she turns eighteen, unless someone decides to take her as their daughter. But unlike most of the orphans, Tanya never wanted to be adopted. Because the only person that really matters to her in the end is…

"Where's Cameron by the way?" Orphen asked her.

"Right here." Orphen jumped back upon hearing the unexpected reply from her brother.

Cameron was Tanya's twin brother. He had the same broad build as his sister, the same colour of fur, and the face that matches his inner strength. If it wasn't for their opposite gender, they appeared exactly alike. His eyes were more jade than his sisters. He was dressed in an oversized shirt, the arms were of the right length, but the sleeves were just too wide, making them slide back whenever he lifts his arms. It made Cameron appear as if he was wearing an odd set of loose robes.

Despite being twins, some things had to set their minds apart. Cameron was somewhat more laid back than his sister, but he did share Tanya's sense of altruism.

"Took you long enough to notice me." Crust escaped from the otter's stuffed lips. Orphen regained his composture at the sight of the treasure in Cameron's paw.

"How'd you get that pie?"

"What pie?" Cameron crammed the rest of the slice into his mouth, almost distending his throat, as he swallowed, "I don't see any pie."

"But really." Orphen said, "I thought Rayhne had the table guarded like a fortress."

"Oh, I have my ways." Cameron slipped a drink from a family's table, "I have my ways."

"What are you talking about?" Tanya crossed, "All you did was run past the table grabbing anything you could reach."

Cameron glared at his sister in disclaim. "It's a legitimate strategy."

"So anyways," Orphen searched sideways, "You've seen Emma?"

"What? Don't you stay close to her every -…oh gasp." Instead of gasping, Cameron pronounced the word mockingly. "You actually came out by-."

"Don't even start." Orphen warned the otter. "I'll hurt you, and I swear I will."

"I meant that as a compliment." The otter lifted his arms in self-defence, "If you're looking for Emma, she's somewhere near the dessert table, she wanted to get first dibs. But I bet she's already scoffing the whole table down."

* * *

Emma had barely even taken a bite at her dish, instead spent the last hour picking and prodding at her food. Nothing felt normal whenever she's alone, especially without Orphen. She wanted to drag the ferret out, to make his last night special. But Rayhne had told her to leave Orphen be for a while, as he had things to vent out. After moments of idling, she realized she had mashed her potatoes in, thinking to herself that it was about time she ate something.

She knew things would be different once Orphen is gone. He's become such a large part of everyone's life, without him the air in Wellman's would no doubt feel hollow.

Not once did she ever call or think Orphen as a vermin. Neither of them even knew the basic concept being that word, being too young at the time to understand. Perhaps that was how he grew up so innocent, being sheltered inside Wellman's Orphanage. Even when the truth about his kind was brought into light, his unsullied experiences and his friends kept Orphen together.

He was there for Emma when she lost everything that night from long ago. She was so young, but the tragic events were forever carved in her memories. She was just a kit when her parents left her in Rayhne's care. The otter later told Emma that her parents trying to save someone, and would come back to her if they succeeded, but they never came back. But she couldn't understand why then. She felt so lost, alone, and terrified. It took until her teen years for Emma to come to the silent conclusion.

Emma sighed bitterly as she chewed the cold dinner; the one thing she regretted was that she never gave a proper goodbye.

During her first days at Wellman's care, she would do everything to hide from everybody, crying in her hiding spots and hoping for her mom and dad to come back for her. When night took its toll on the squirrel, she was forced to bunk with Orphen. He was the only person in the whole orphanage who didn't make her afraid. Rather it inspired curiosity. She never saw anything like him before, and Orphen never met anyone so eager to interact with him. Naturally, they bonded.

The same didn't go for his later friendships. Most orphans who became orphans in the first place were because of Orphen's kind. Cameron and Tanya were one of those many children.

The twins loathed Orphen upon the first sight of him, seeing him as but an outlet of their loss**. **Although Emma never heard of the full details, the otters witnessed their parent's death firsthand at the hands of vermin, witnessing the worst they were capable of. They were hiding at the time their home was set ablaze. And they could do nothing but escape with their lives, not knowing what to do or how to survive. For days they ran, to the point they both collapsed from exhaustion, just a mile from Wellman's Orphanage.

With no hope of avenging their parents, they projected their anger onto Orphen, a chapter in their lives worthy enough to make a great stage play. The harassment carried on for two whole years, until after the final confrontation did Rayhne reveal that the twins wouldn't have been alive if it wasn't for the ferret they hated, for it was Orphen who discovered them unconscious all those years ago. Like all beasts he met, the otters began to see past Orphen's appearance, causing the three of them to reconcile with a bond as strong as the past hatred.

If it weren't for Orphen, the twins would probably have grown up for the wrong reasons, probably never to trust anyone again. If it wasn't for Orphen, Emma may have never opened up to the other children.

Now, coming sunrise, Orphen is set to depart from the only place he had called home for most of his life. Emma would've gladly gone with him, if only she were a year older. She slouched in her chair, reflecting bitterly on this. She doesn't know how she can cope with this empty feeling for another year.

She was shaken out of her thoughts as she caught a plate settling down on the table. It was a vast pile of seafood; salmon, trout, shrimps. Her ears peaked; there was only one person who liked such dishes this much, welcoming her friend as he pulled a chair over.

"Been looking for you." Said Orphen.

"Oh!" Emma was surprised Orphen came out by himself. "Didn't have to drag you out this time."

"Well, I think it's about time I grew up for a change."

"About time." Emma laughed. "So what is it with you and fish?" She inspected Orphen's choice of dinner, "You always go for anything close to real meat."

Orphen shrugged. "Must be a ferret thing."

They began to eat, though Emma noticed that Orphen's expression did not match the comfortable silence.

"Something wrong?" Emma asked, worried it was because of her.

"Oh, no." Orphen reassuringly waved away. "Well, it's just that Rayhne…"

"Oh, she he gave you that talk." The squirrel thought she understood.

"What?" This caught Orphen off guard.

"What did he say?" Emma clarified, "Some life lesson about life?"

"Well, if finding out my father was a psychopath counts, then yes."

It was Emma's turn to be caught off guard.

"I'm sorry, it just slipped out." Orphen didn't want to sour the mood. "Rayhne told me everything, about who my parents are."

Emma could tell how bad this was, judging how ill Orphen just spoke of his father. "I don't know what to say."

"It's okay." Orphen assured her. "I expected that. In fact, I already brushed him off my shoulders."

"So why the face?" Emma referred to the evident trouble in Orphen's expression.

"It's what Rayhne said about my mother," Orphen shook his head and smiled despite himself, "She's nothing I imagined her to be."

"She…she was a good person." Orphen wondered for a second if that's what he inherited from her. "She loved me. Gave up her life so I could have one."

"Well," Emma considered what to say, despite his mother dying, he spoke good of her. "That's great news."

"I know, I should feel great." Orphen said with frustration. "I don't know why I'm feeling like this though. It's like I did something terrible."

"Maybe," Emma tried to sound comforting. "You're sorry for thinking the worst of your mother."

"I hope so." Orphen sighed, wanting to believe that.

* * *

The twins marvelled at the treasure of fireworks stacked in the wagon, as if each rocket was a precious gem waiting to explode. The one Kirrin had mentioned was very hard to miss, being the largest of the stacks. The face of a lizard was carved at the top, but strangely carrying a long moustache and beard

"Wow." It felt right for Tanya to say it. "I wonder how these things could make all those bright patterns in the skies."

"Magic for all I care." Her brother nudged her. "Let's make some of our own."

Tanya was the first to climb aboard, then reaching down to lift Cameron since his paw was occupied holding the candle.

"Cameron!" Things nearly turned for the worst when the candlelight strayed too close to one of the fuses. Luckily for the both of them, Tanya's warning averted the crisis.

"Sorry." The brother apologized, brushing the dirt from his feet.

"Ooh, we still have a situation here." Tanya became dismayed at the sight of the fuses. She picked up the pile in her arms. The strings were all tangled together.

"Just a little set back." Cameron pondered with his paws to his chin, "Got it. If we could-."

"Found it!" Tanya twirled the thread.

"You see? The plan worked perfectly."

Tanya held the end of the thread over the candlelight, but not close enough to ignite, "I've been thinking."

"Oh don't tell me you're chickening out now." Cameron frowned.

"No, I remember him saying something else. What was it? Stay far away when you light it?"

"Cameron considered it for a moment, "…no, I think it was just Rayhne saying stay away."

"Oh, in that case…" Without another hesitation, Tanya steadied the fuse to the candle, igniting the tip into a flurry of sparks. However, it was too late for the siblings to turn back at this point.

"Remind me again why we're doing this."

"Now who's chickening out." Tanya retorted, waving the sparkling fuse at her brother. "It all comes down to one simple-ow!"

Tanya, having no experience in fireworks, realized too late the fuse burning down to the tips of her fingers. The siblings were about to learn another grave fact of their mistake when Tanya dropped the fuse in the panic. The sparks crossed with another fuse, igniting it down from the middle. The ignited threads crossed with another, then another. Things turned to worst when one of the fuses reached the large tangle.

"Oh…" The twins knew at that point they had just unleashed something horrible.

* * *

The food was delicious, and the party was perfect. But neither was able to bring peace to Orphen's mind. The dinner had regressed into a cold silence between him and Emma, with only the rabble of the crowd filling the silence. Usually they would always have something to talk about, no matter how ridiculous the topic may be. It was the thought of leaving the coming morning that was spoiling everything. This festival almost felt like a farewell celebration. But there was nothing to be happy about, leaving behind everything he knew.

All of a sudden, the ferret was hit with an idea, snapping his fingers.

"I got it!" He circled his chair closer to Emma. "When it's your time to leave, I'll be outside waiting for you."

"Orphen," Rather than bringing a smile, Emma felt guilt ridden. "I know you're trying to help. But you shouldn't go all this way just for-." Orphen hushed her, shutting her lips with his fingers.

"I'm doing this for the both of us." Said Orphen, "In fact, I can't imagine how I'm going to survive out there on my own."

"Oh please." Emma knew her friend was just flattering her. "I should be the one saying that."

"No, really. Nothing would be interesting without you. You know what they say. The best things in life are enjoyed with friends."

"Looks to me you just need me to be the damsel to rescue."

"That's not true. Once in a while I'll let you be the hero. And I'll be the one dressed in a tutu."

The immediate mental image was too much for Emma to handle, "Oh, that's just wrong."

"Then why are you laughing?" Orphen was glad, now that the mood was returning, "Besides, it won't be even a year before it's your time. In fact, it's just going to be six more months."

"So until winter." Two seasons from this forward. Emma admitted, it would be nice to have a friend greeting her in the cold, that part she couldn't deny. "Six months is still a long time."

"Hey." Orphen said sympathetically, reaching across the table for Emma's paw." At least it's not forever."

"Orphen…" Emma looked briefly at their paws entwined together. "Ah…I…" It took much effort just for her to say a syllable. The squirrel gritted her teeth, utterly frustrated for losing her voice at this time. Before Orphen was able to catch on, she beamed a smile for him. "Thank you."

"Now was that so hard?"

"No, not just this." Emma confessed. "For being there for me, when I lost everything. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Likewise." Orphen acknowledged. "You were the only person who really talked. It made me feel normal."

"You are normal." Emma consoled. "Don't ever think that way."

The timely bang from the fireworks blew away Orphen's doubts, turning his attention to the skies. "Well, at least I'll be going out with a bang, eh?"

"Yeah." Orphen was too preoccupied with the skies to notice his friend sinking further in her chair, a pang of regret on her brow. Minutes passed, the supply of lights dwindling down, but not once did Orphen blink.

"So." He muttered doubtfully, "Where's this big finale Kirrin was talking about?"

The skies became filled with daylight, an explosion of wind bending the trees in a wide circle, and overturning several tables, much to the surprise of the guests. This was unlike anything Orphen had ever seen before. For a moment, he thought the bright ball in the sky was the sun, that Kirrin had actually created the sun on his own. And just as sudden as it came, all was dark again, leaving spots and colours to dance in Orphen's vision. The ferret began to rub his eyes vigorously, becoming mortified when he stared at his paws. "Oh dear no, I can't see colours anymore!"

"Orphen." Emma intruded. "Your fur's grey."

* * *

The force of the simultaneous ignitions was too much for the wagon, causing it to fall apart. Among the smoking rubble, a wooden board was lifted aside, giving the twins air to breath. The twins were covered head to toe in ashes. A single huff from Cameron expelled a cloud of dust, a clue of what they survived through.

"Well that was a blast." Cameron panted out. "Wanna try again?"

"Um, Cameron?" The otter immediately noticed the dread in his sisters eyes, "I don't think we're going to get the chance."

Cameron tracked his sibling's gaze, finding himself swelling with panic when he saw a pair of feet standing over them.

"You know," Rayhne tapped his feet dismissively. "I wonder if anyone will care if you both end up missing."

Two words repeated itself over and over in the twin's heads.

"Oh…"

* * *

"No…no…nooo!"

The party guests were all dumbfounded as the sight of two charred otters being dragged across the party by a badger, and screaming for their lives.

"Help!" Cameron clawed at the dirt, feebly trying to anchor himself. "Abuse! We're being abused!"

"Oh, give it up." Fiona was unfazed by the attention the otters were gathering. "They all remember what you did the last time. And festival before that."

Desperate, both siblings latched onto a guest's table. But it did nothing to even weigh the badger down. The family of guests yelped in pleasant alarm as all their dinners were spilled over. In the end the twins were unable to hold on to their anchor, leaving only scratch marks on the wooden frames.

Behind them, Rayhne could only frown at the scene the sibling otters were making, "Well, at least they didn't light the desserts on fire this time." He tried to joke, succeeding in rousing a few honest laughs from the crowd.

"Well since they already caught your attention, I may as well add to this." Rayhne announced. "I'd like to start by thanking you all for coming here. Although it gets harder for me to set up the occasion every year, it makes me happier every year when I see the children I once raised, now all grown up and with their own families. And tonight, three more children have gained a family tonight. Julia! Revelle! And Haskin! I wish you all a happy life!"

The guests gave a small cheer for the occasion. "There is one, however, who will step out on his own." Rayhne declared grimly. "But his name stands out above anyone else I have ever known. Those of you who were raised with him, you knew him well."

"Oh no…" Orphen shrank in his chair, knowing who's going to be the centre of attention.

"You gave us hope. Hope that there will be a better future. Take a stand Orphen, you deserve it." The ferret found himself being overwhelmed by a roar of applause. Most of the other orphans were the ones to give it their all as they stood up themselves.

"Come on." Emma prodded her friend, pushing the embarrassed ferret to stand. He felt like he was being hailed a hero, which he considers anything but.

"Come on!" Rayhne took the encouragements to the next level, pulling Orphen by the collar of his shirt.

"I know what you're thinking." Rayhne addressed Orphen, loud for all the people to hear, "But let me tell you Orphen, you changed the lives of everyone you ever met. You taught us that things are not truly black and white, you've healed lives where it would've been impossible. And believe this is just the beginning. I truly believe that you'll change the world for the better."

* * *

The night went on, and despite all efforts to make it last forever, the morning had to follow…

Emma stirred in her sleep, awoken by a pleasant sensation stroking her brow. The peace was broken when she opened her eyes. The morning sunlight poured in through the windows, illuminating the now vacant side of the room. The squirrel shot out of bed, dismayed that he had already left.

"Sorry." Emma glanced frantically to the voice, finding Orphen standing at the other end of her bed, "Didn't want to wake you up too soon." There he was, with his entire life fitted behind his back.

"Orphen…" Once again, Emma found herself going mute. She couldn't say a simple goodbye, she didn't want to. And she had already said everything she could to him last night. She wanted so badly to let her feelings out, to hug him, beg him to stay, but that would've only made it harder for the both of them.

All of a sudden, her body acted on those secret desires, racing up to embrace the ferret. She tried not to cry, that would have been too hard for him. But feeling him return the embrace, however, broke her resolve. "Don't go…" she sobbed into his shoulder.

"Hey," Orphen struggled to maintain his smile, "I'll come back for you. I swear."

"No!" Emma shook her head, "I don't want to wait that long! I can't!"

It wouldn't be that long; he wanted to say, that at least it wasn't forever. But he found himself weighed by the same pain. Emma may be losing Orphen, but it was Orphen who is losing everything. The ferret found his eyes welling up, and despite his efforts, the tears broke free, bare for Emma to see. Realizing there was nothing left to hide, Orphen confessed, "Me neither." For a while, the pair remained locked together in silence, as there weren't any words to say any further. Orphen allowed Emma to cry into his shoulders, anything to dry the tears away.

"There's never a good time to do this, is it?" Uttered Rayhne's voice. The otter had been standing by the door, carrying a large case with him

Emma parted with Orphen, knowing this was to be a private matter. "I guess I should go."

"No." Rayhne raised a halting paw, "You may stay." He lifted the wooden case to Orphen's direction, ushering the ferret to come closer, "Open it."

A parting gift, Orphen guessed, as he unclipped the hinges and lifted the lid. He nearly gasped with surprise to see that his present was a decorated weapon. A double-edged sword, bearing strange carvings and writing on the surface of the blade. The pommel and the cross guard was laced with gold, the grip a mixed blend of black and gold stripes. The scabbard was built into a belt, the chape and locket silver.

"Do you know how this orphanage was built?" Rayhne asked, "My great grand father's…great, great grand father was part of the last Great War, serving as a blacksmith for the freedom fighters. Although Mossflower was finally liberated, he saw that many children were left without a family. And so he used his small fortune to build this place. He kept many of his creations on his mantle, to remind his sons and their sons of what hid did. But this," He motioned the case he was holding, "This one was the last he ever made, and in my opinion his finest."

"Rayhne…" Orphen was speechless, he was basically being given a family relic, "This is too much."

"Orphen, listen to what I have to say." Rayhne alleviated Orphen's doubts, "Before you came upon my doorsteps, I was a very cynical creature, especially towards your kind. The first days after your arrival trumped by entire upbringing, but it wasn't just your behaviour that amazed me over the years. You changed the lives of everything here for the better. Some of the children won't have to grow up fearing or hating vermin for the rest of their lives. Some wouldn't have recovered if it weren't for you. Believe me Orphen when I say this, you deserve this."

Hesitantly, Orphen grasped the handle of the sword, holding it up before him. By Rayhne's words, the sword was remarkably old, but Orphen saw no evidence of its age. He tested the edges, surprised that it was still sharp, "Thank you so much sir." He obliged, "But how do you know I'm ever going to need it?"

"What was all that practice for then?" Rayhne joked, and then pressed on the real reason, "This doesn't belong to a wall, it never did. I can't think of anyone better to keep this than you."

The ferret remained fixated with what he was holding in his hands, a big leap after practicing with sticks and imaginations. "But remember." Rayhne spoke more insistently, "If it ever comes to that. Let it be for the right reasons." He could see that Orphen did not once question the implications of what he was truly holding, of what weapons are only good for.

The ferret eagerly tried on the belt harness, sheathing the sword at his side. He almost wanted to run straight to the mirror, but that would be bad form in front of Rayhne.

"Now Emma." Rayhne addressed the squirrel now, "This next thing is going to be private between Orphen and I."

"Oh." Knowing this was her last chance in a long while, she took one last look at Orphen. She tried to think of something to say, anything other than goodbye, "Well, be seeing you."

As she closed the door behind her, Emma immediately pressed her ear against the doorframe, needing to listen to this last great secret. All she heard were inaudible whispers; they must have suspected she'd be eavesdropping. Then all of a sudden, Orphen's voice rang high with surprise.

"Are you serious about this?"

"There's no doubt it'll happen."

"But aren't you worried that-." Orphen stopped, careful not to reveal the secret out loud.

"I'm sure you'll take good care of…it."

Emma could only speculate, why were they talking like this? …Do they know?

* * *

Orphen and the caretakers stood alone outside at the gates. Elenor fussed about every little detail, as if Orphen was a child again on his first day to school.

"Now don't lose these papers." She curled Orphen's paws around a document, "This proves all your skills and education for Buckly at Madrigal. You can be anything you want. Rayhne worked a lot to get these for you."

"He's not exactly the tolerant kind." Rayhne established, "But I'm sure you'll change that when he meets you."

"Remember to camp off the road at night." Elenor warned Orphen, "There are bandits everywhere nowadays."

"Yes ma'am." Orphen half listened, just trying to endure the naggings.

"There's a tavern some days ahead along the road, but try not to talk to any strangers."

"I know." Orphen heckled, "You told me so many times about that one."

"And Orphen?"

"What?" Just before Orphen lost it, he found himself embraced by the aging mouse, her stern demeanour melting into tears.

"They were all idiots not to pick you." Elenor cried, "You would've made a couple so happy if they did."

"Well, it's their loss." Orphen tried to stifle the sadness.

"I'm going to miss you so much." The mouse confessed.

"Me too." Orphen patted her back. He recalled how she took extra care of him, how she always managed to make time to play with Orphen when he was little. He wondered if Elenor saw him more than just another orphan. But knowing it was never a good day to ask, he gently pried her arms from him. Rayhne walked over to hold the shaking mouse, the both of them watching as Orphen made final preparations for the journey.

"Orphen." Rayhne gave his last words, "What are you going to do?"

Orphen stared at the road past the gates, his paw still grasping Rayhne's gift, a clue to what the otter meant for him. Many things crossed the ferret's mind. Somehow, he managed to sum up all his ambitions in one sentence.

"Whatever destiny chooses for me."

It would be a long trial before Orphen realizes the meaning of his words, why it brought so much horror to the old otter's eyes. But for now, the ferret took the first of many steps down the road, leaving behind Rayhne and Elenor in dread. It was only when Orphen became a speck in their sights did Elenor felt it was safe to speak.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" she asked Rayhne, with a shade of anger in her voice.

"I told him enough."

"That sword you gave to him, you told me that was the only one the first Wellman didn't make, it was given to him. It belonged to Orphen's great-."

"I know."

"I can't believe you." Done with the charade, she broke from Rayhne's arms, "I can't believe I went along with this."

"I should never have told you." Rayhne said softly.

"About what?" Elenor let her burden out, "That you weren't really a blacksmith before you came back? What Orphen really is?"

"He's part of the world, to keep it moving. That's how it's always been. This country will die without him."

"Don't you think it's sick though? That we raised him like we did, just for the world to shatter him?"

"It's a miracle he's even had a moment of peace for this long."

"We could've kept him longer."

"It wouldn't have made a difference." Said Rayhne adamantly, "Even if I had locked him up here, eventually, he would've been called. It would've been more painful for him then."

Elenor paced back and forth, years of guilt finally spilling out, "He is the most precious child I ever raised in my entire life. He's the best thing that ever gifted this world, and now it's going to make him suffer."

"Yes." The otter answered.

Horrible scenarios flashed before Elenor's eyes, the things that could happen to the person she grew to love like a son. "He may die, won't he?"

Finally, she let the burden out. She cried, sobbing more fiercely than she ever did in her life. Rayhne tried to embrace her again, and despite all reasons to hit him, she didn't.

"We gave him as much light as we could. Let's hope it's enough to hold his heart together."

* * *

_"But at least…"_

A red shroud climbed on top of Rayhne's fireplace, examining the countless relics of past wars hanging on the wall. After much considering, it ran to leap out from the window, leaving behind an empty mantel.

"_He won't be alone in all this."_


	4. Barfight

13/12/09: Sorry it took a long time, too long. If only the word 'university' can justify the lapse of time. But I'll spare the gory details. Now you will notice some drastically different things in this chapter, one thing in particular drastically missing. But rest assured it will come later.

* * *

The only signs of life Orphen met for the past days were the blossoming plant life on the side of the road. Otherwise, Orphen didn't experience any misfortune along the way. But the clouds above began to gather, darken, and swell. The ferret couldn't take shelter under a tree, as the leaves were yet to flourish. He had no choice but to endure the barrage of rain as the evening came.

Every time it rained, Orphen couldn't understand why he would always feel uncomfortable, maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was the sounds of the thunder he once thought. Now he recognized an unsettling feeling of being separated from the most important thing in his life. It was a familiar, almost painful sensation. He found a bit of irony about this; he had no memory or idea what this most important thing was supposed to be.

If Orphen had brought a mirror with him, he would've been ashamed of the sorry sight he had become. The moist arrows from the skies had pierced through the fabric of his clothing, dampening his fur and the sensitive skin beneath. His face was the most grievous thing. His headfur had flattened against his skull under the assailing rain; the cold shower was falling so hard a steady line of water was trickling from his chin. It was supposed to be the beginning of spring, Elenor said. But the sky fall still carried the chill of the past season.

Orphen did his best not the think about the rain, but then it would come to the harsh reality of his situation. He was alone, truly alone. There was no one he knew outside of the orphanage, no friendly faces he could recognize or relate to. Of course there was a chance he could have an encounter with others who had left the orphanage before he did. But it's likely they have already moved on with their lives. Then it occurred to him, if that was the case, he shouldn't be any different. With any luck he'll come across a woodlander's home, which'd be more inclined to shelter him for the night just by looking at his damp state.

Orphen's optimism drowned as he stepped into a puddle, much deeper than it appeared. He was unprepared for this and stumbled. His unrestrained curse word was muted out by a close lightning, illuminating the mud now caking the entire front of Orphen's body. He groaned irritably as he scooped the largest clump from his chin, it didn't change the fact he crudely dyed half his body, with his least favourite colour.

"Oh come on!" The ferret yelled out loud, hoping that if there was an ethereal entity out there, it was listening, "Cut a little slack!" Orphen sighed in discontent, refastening his backpack, which luckily the material protected the contents from the rain. He gazed ahead of him, trying to regain his bearings. If he had kept his eyes to the ground, he might have never noticed the small circle of light blinking in the midst of the dark.

Light in the middle of a rain meant something with a roof, and a roof meant no rain. That was the only logic Orphen needed. He sped towards the potential shelter, cot caring of the condition he is making of his pant legs in the mud. The distant glimmer began to spread as Orphen drew closer.

Candlelight hung from a pole, shielded in a glass jar. Orphen reasoned this to be a beacon for travellers. On the side of the road was clearly a lodging of some sort. He slumped against the lamppost to regain his breath, but he managed to speak out his thanks to whatever powers that be he prayed to earlier.

Orphen read the words "Dragon's Jaws" from a sign creaking above the door. He felt that was a strange name for a welcoming looking building. Then he remembered a more pressing matter, he was cold.

As Orphen entered the lodging, he was greeted by dry warm air blowing in his face. He held up his arms mid chest, shutting his eyes to revel in this invisible embrace. This was a turn for the better, had it not been spoiled by a harsh interruption.

"Hey! Would you mind closing the door behind you? You're wasting our precious heat!" Orphen opened his eyes, realization settling that he had ventured into a lion's den.

To say this was a place of gathering for warlords would've been an overstatement, but not by much. Most of the dwellers, to Orphen's unease, were those among his kind, rats and such. Unlike Orphen, the way they dressed and looked gave the impression of very questionable lifestyles. Orphen was usually the type never to judge one's outward appearance, but for the moment he was certain that one of these lot were what he suspected. He couldn't dwell in his fears now. Not wanting to provoke his unseen spectator from the crowd, Orphen hastily kicked the door shut behind him.

An annoyed "thank you" sounded out from the rabble, but Orphen could hear someone berating the person to "go easy on the kid" which Orphen assumed they were talking about him. They continued to speak something about doors, air and pressure. Orphen was more concerned about finding a quiet spot where he'd be the least noticeable. That would be hard, on the count of his muddy appearance. To the lad's relief, the accusing stares turned away from him, resuming to their own devices.

Cautiously, Orphen manoeuvred through the chairs and tables, looking for an empty table. To Orphen's surprise, the most dangerous looking ones of the bunch were kind enough to push in their chairs to let him through.

He faced a close call when he brushed against a slouching beast sitting among several others. The beast was much larger than Orphen imagined as it straightened up. It was as large as a badger, but the dark brown coloration of its fur indicated an entirely different creature. Only its muzzle was visible from underneath its ragged hood. It did not bare its teeth, but the rumble of aggravation it gave put Orphen at unease. It did not help that its companions, though appearing to be simple beasts, did nothing but regard Orphen silently.

"I'm very sorry about that." Orphen hastily apologized, finding another way around, "Excuse me…"

Finally, he found an empty stool on the end of the counter in the back, and wasted no time rest his legs, especially his nerves. Orphen found himself gasping for air as he settled down in the stool, how long has he been holding his breath?

A moment ago Orphen just wanted to find shelter from the cold, but for some reason he felt uncomfortably hot. He may be finally in the company of other people, but Orphen had never felt so isolated and displaced than he had been in the rain. The ferret unwillingly caught conversations and boasts from nearby. One of them happily retold how she beat somebody up, and another was explicitly telling about his night with a certain femme. Orphen thought it was so ironic he was so detached and uninformed of his own kind, despite being…one of them.

Even up to the day he left, Elenor and Rayhne outright refused to teach Orphen about his own vermin heritage and kind in full detail. Elenor didn't want to upset him she said, and the only thing Rayhne really taught Orphen was how to defend himself from them. But he had his fellow orphans tell their experiences to him how they became orphans. A part of him wished that they did tell him what to look out for. But then again, after looking at the rabble, they had good reason to keep these kinds of things away from him. It makes him wonder if the things they said about the town were all true.

Orphen's mind suddenly clicked. He remembered Rayhne telling him about a place to look out for. He can't believe he forgot about that. Orphen figured he might as well make the best of it. Come to think of it, the mud helped him appear no different from the squabble of vermin about him.

"Can I get you something sir?"

Orphen straightened to the friendly voice, becoming surprised to be looking into the face of a sweet mouse. She was dressed in the manner of a barmaid, which only perplexed the ferret further. Why would she work here of all places?

"Um…do I have something on my face?" She looked uncomfortable, getting no answer.

Orphen snapped out of it, realizing the face he must have been making.

"No, no. I'm sorry." He flustered, "I'm just – cold."

"Yeah, I can see that. You're still dripping wet." The barmaid understood, "So, would you like me to take your order now sir?"

"I, um…" Orphen gestured politely, "I don't know what you serve here."

"By the looks of you, anything warm." She guessed correctly, "I trust you, but, it's custom now that you pay before you get to eat."

Orphen could understand that in this setting. But, "I don't know if I have enough." He pulled out his money pouch, "This is the first time I'm using money." He just realized right away how stupid that statement was. Why did he just say that?

"That's a first…" the mouse muttered, "By the size of that bag, you more than enough. Don't worry about it." She reached under the table for a mug, filling it up from a tapped barrel. "I'll send someone over, so just drink up in the meantime. This one's on me."

Orphen watched her walk over to the tables, taking various orders with a smile. She had no reason to be afraid of these people, and that relieved Orphen to a great extent. All looked to be going well, until he took a sip of the mug. He coughed and sputtered, but the brew had already gone down his throat. A common reaction of tasting ale for the very first time. His young mind was conflicted, it tasted terrible, but it left a warm sensation in his throat. He couldn't ask the barmaid anyways to take it back, especially since it's a gift. But while dawning on these thoughts, Orphen was unaware he lifted the mug back to his lips.

"_If Elenor found out about this, she would actually kill me."_ Orphen thought. Some time has passed, and the ferret's headfur had begun to dry out, but to his discomfort the mud was starting to crust over. Orphen decided to lie out all the contents of his backpack on the counter. To Orphen's relief, none of them had been damaged in the rain, especially the letter.

"Excuse me. Can I have a moment of your time?" An otter approached Orphen from behind. He was a strong looking adult, somewhere between five or ten years senior to Orphen. His whiskers were distinctly longer than most otters Orphen knew, and his fur was covered in grime**. **There was something very familiar about this otter. Despite the otter's stature however, it was he who seemed wary of Orphen. "Don't know if you're aware of this, but everyone is required to relinquish their weapons until they are ready to leave."

"I'm very sorry sir." Orphen unfastened the sword from his belt. "I didn't mean any trouble."

"Now that's a first." The otter was taken back by the ferret's politeness, especially in these parts of the country. "In any case, folks may get the wrong idea when they see you with that."

Not wanting to cause a commotion, Orphen cooperated and handed his sword over to the otter. The sword seemed to interest the otter as he examined the decals and craftwork of the handle. Recognition overcame his eyes as he darted down on the ferret.

"Did you come from the south?" he asked.

"Yeah?" Orphen replied hesitantly, becoming unnerved by the otter's approach.

"A parting gift?" The otter continued.

"From a mentor of mind." Orphen answered. "Why, do you know him?"

"I'm more concerned about you." In order for the otter to confirm his suspicion, he reached out to the ferret's head, proceeding to ruffling his scalp like crazy.

"What, why are you-!" Orphen pulled away, nearly knocking himself off the stool. He frantically tried flattening the hairs that have puffed and extended.

"I knew it! It is you!" The otter said happily, much to Orphen's annoyance. "And it still does that."

"Yeah, I know who I am!" Abandoning caution, Orphen stood his ground to the otter. "What's wrong with you?"

"Come on Orphen, who else besides Rayhne likes to do that to you on purpose."

The ferret's memories sparked back to life, remembering the older otter that used to perform hit-and-run attacks on Orphen's headfur in the young days. But the pranks were balanced out by the otter's close friendship.

"Ald'ruhn?" Orphen couldn't believe how much the otter's face has changed seven years since he left. He remembered Ald'ruhn still looking younger than his age when he left. Before him was a grizzling brute, worthy to blend amongst this den of villains. It made Orphen wonder what could've changed his friend so radically.

But he also remembered bitterly, "You could've just asked for my name."

"But that would take the fun out of everything."

* * *

After ending his shift early, Ald'ruhn joined Orphen's table.

"Small world, isn't it?" the otter sipped his grog. "You're pretty lucky. Another day and you would've missed me."

"You mean this isn't where you work?"

"What? Oh no, no." Ald'ruhn cast off the assumption, "Just doing the real bartender a favour, covering for him during the winter. In return I get a free bed and meal with some money on top. Can't complain. Well, aside from the fact I have to stay cooped up here."

"You've been here since winter? You should've come by at the festival. Everybody's been wondering what happened to you."

"I thought about it." Ald'ruhn considered, "To me, leaving that place was like a coming-of-age thing. Going back would feel like asking for help again."

"Nonsense!" The ferret protested. "Everyone's worried what happened to you. They really miss you."

"I bet they do." The otter shrugged, unsure whether he should believe.

"Well, the twins do, especially."

"Which ones?" Ald'ruhn perked with interest. "Canny and Tam?"

"Oh, I remember how much they hated you calling them that." Orphen reminisced. "They've been holding the fort ever since you left."

"Good to hear." Ald'ruhn smiled, a sign for Orphen to press on.

"C'mon. Drop by at Wellman's first thing tomorrow. Just let everyone know you're doing well."

The tavern doors spring open once more, allowing shelter for the next wayward soul. The stranger was garbed in a red cloak, drenched completely from the rain. It wasted no time to close the door behind itself, taking the time to back in the new warmth. It reached upwards to remove its own hood, but paused when something caught its sight. After short deliberation, it chose to leave its damp cloak on, even the tightly strung backpack as it searched for the nearest seat.

"Not would you look at that." Ald'ruhn studied the red stranger. "What do you think that blighters got to hide?"

"I might as well ask you the same question."

"Dammit." He saw through Ald'ruhn's scheme.

"I…I can't go back." Ald'ruhn answered, pain in his voice. "My…before I lost my parents, my father told me that whenever I get the chance, I repay them for all the times they've taken care of me." He leaned forward, hiding his brow behind his paws. A part of him acknowledged he never got the chance. "After everything Rayhne did for me, I got nothing, even decent to show for him."

"Well, you're alive." The ferret cracked optimistically. "That's all that matters."

"Not just him. But the others." Ald'ruhn pressed forward. "It goes much deeper than that."

This wasn't like him, Orphen thought. Ald'ruhn never acted ashamed of himself in his time at Wellman's, because he did nothing to feel bad for. Seeing Ald'ruhn like this, visibly trying in vain to hide his emotion, Orphen could only assume something bad happened to his friend during his time away. Or rather, something he did. There was only one way to find out.

"Ald'ruhn. Did something-?"

* * *

The barmaid was explicitly warned never to go near the tattooed rats. But her caution momentarily slipped, seeking to deliver the next order as quickly as possible. She felt something tug at her gowns sharply, causing the mouse to lose her balance, and spilling the platter all over the floor. At first she worried of the mess she made. But when she found herself sitting in the lap of one of the rats, her worry turned to dread.

"Hey now. That was pretty rude of you dropping in like that." The perpetrator feigned innocence.

"I'm sorry." The mouse stuttered. "I-I'll clean it up." She tried to rise, only to be held down by her arm and waist.

"You know, I noticed you never came around to serve us." The rat teased. "Why is that?"

"I'm…I'm not assigned to this table." The barmaid excused.

"And you left us what that old hog?" asked another rat. "I thought this place treated everyone equally. Tell me Klik, do you think that's fair?"

"Doesn't look like it." Klik grinned. "I do believe we're entitled to a special apology? Don't you agree Flik?"

The barmaid could do nothing but cry as the rat slipped a paw under her dress. That did it for Orphen. He stood up, determined to put an end to this.

"No!" Ald'ruhn intercepted in time, pushing the ferret back into his chair.

"What are you doing?" Orphen was bewildered at Ald'ruhn. The lady was in trouble.

"Keeping you from killing yourself." Ald'ruhn whispered. "You do not mess with those kinds of people."

"What kind of people?"

"Look." Ald'ruhn explained frantically, "All you need to know is that if you go out there, you'll only make it worse for yourself and her. Just stay where you are, and eventually they'll let her go."

This was not the otter Orphen remembered. He would've been the one to swoop in first like a big hero whenever he had the chance. Now, his own role model is urging Orphen to ignore a crime being committed out in the open. But then he looked all around at the other tabled, he was astonished to see no one else was willing to stand up, refusing to even look at the scene.

It occurred to Orphen that something was very wrong, that Ald'ruhn's caution was not without reason. These rats were more dangerous than they appeared.

He should've stayed down.

"Ald'ruhn…" Slowly, Orphen reached for the paw holding him down. He gazed at Ald'ruhn with a calm, understanding expression, as if agreeing to this. Just when the otter felt it was safe to loosen his grip, Orphen yanked the paw away, bolting away from Ald'ruhn's reach.

"Orphen! No!" Ald'ruhn had half a mind to recite every curse he knew.

The barmaid kept still as the rat groped her. She knew what may happen if she tried to fight back. She tried not to cry, this isn't the worst. At least they didn't…

"How's about a kiss?" the rat Flik didn't bother to oblige the mouse for an answer. He was not planning to stop in his advances, had not an annoying shadow loomed over him. He momentarily halted his advanced to regard the ferret. "What?"

"I don't think she likes what you're doing to her." Orphen put it lightly.

"What do you mean?" Flik pulled the frightened mouse close to him. "She totally wants it."

"Either you're blind or an idiot." Orphen asserted. "So I'm hoping you're just blind."

Everyone in the vicinity got out of their tables, retreating away from the spectacle about to happen. Orphen succeeded in stripping the rat's attention away from the maiden, shifting it all to him. Flik pushed the mouse away, the bar maid wasting no time to run to safety.

"The same can be said for you." Flik rose up, standing dangerously close to the ferret. "When I'm done with you, I'm going to make her pay for what you've said."

Orphen kept still as the rat grabbed him by the shirt, waiting for the rat to pull his arm back, betraying where he would strike. Before the fist could connect with his jaw, the ferret locked his paw around the rat's wrist, twisting it for good measure.

Flik cried out, removing his grip from the ferret to the source of his pain. It was Orphen's turn to tug the rat's cloak, proceeding to slam the vermin face flat into a table. Fortunately for the rat, the blow was cushioned, finding himself buried in someone else's supper.

"He's actually doing it!" a bystander hollered.

Orphen immediately twisted the rat's arm over his shoulder, pushing his face back into the plate.

"Blech!" Klik gurgled into the food, the pain in his joints keeping him pinned to the table. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Uh, yeah." Orphen pointed out the obvious. "I believe I have you in an arm lock so you can't get back up."

"No! Do you have any idea what happens to people for touching a Syndicate? Don't you know what we can do to you?"

"Do you know what happens to people who accost maidens like that in the open?" Orphen twisted the rat's wrist another inch in reply, "You felt that?"

"Grr! Yeah!" the rat managed to blurt amidst the pain, "What are you getting at?"

"That's called punishment, and there's a reason why you're getting it. Now I hope you and your friends get the idea when I let you go. Because if you ever-."

An odd glimmer in an overturned class caught Orphen's eyes. He saw himself in the rough reflection. There was also a rough shape creeping behind him, slowly raising a suspicious object to bring down upon Orphen's back. He suspected what was coming, swinging the rat back around to ask as a living shield. The chair came down so hard; the wooden chair broke apart from the impact. The rat held the last two pieces; shocked over the fact he just knocked his brother out.

Orphen acted quickly, throwing the dead weight into the Syndicate, causing them to topple over each other. This gave Orphen enough distance to access the situation. He expected the others to begin charging, but they were smart enough to wait for the fallen brothers to get back up.

"Sunnova-!" Flik's eyes widened as he found blood leaking from his nose. "Whose side are you on Klik?"

"It's your fault for being his meat shield!"

Six against one, Orphen counted. He was confident he could best them one at a time. But he would be at a great disadvantage if they attacked at once. That and the fact he had no clue how he's going to end this fight. He remembered Rayhne's lessons it takes much more skill and effort to subdue an opponent than to kill. Orphen wasn't planning on taking the second option.

"Break him!" one of the goons obliged Flik's order, preparing to charge at the ferret.

The fight was momentarily cut short by a rolling stool, set perfectly to tangle and collapse the rat. It took a moment of shock for everyone to realize who the new contender was.

"You sure are making a real good impression Orphen."

"About time your spine grew back."

"Well, yours grew too big." The otter remarked. "Never imagined you'd be the end of me. But heaven help me if I let a fiend die."

One of the nameless rats lunged at Ald'ruhn; unaware the otter was gripping the edge of a table. He overturned the table just when the rat got close enough, rousing one of the loudest cries of pain as the rat's foot was crushed. A well-placed fist between the eyes rendered the rat's vision black, reducing their opponents down to five.

"Whoa!" Orphen marvelled the otter's stunt. "You have to tell me where you learned that one."

"Yeah, well…Left side!" Ald'ruhn's abrupt moment gave Orphen time to brace himself, protecting his face from being struck from behind. As he locked his opponent's arms, Orphen couldn't believe he actually let his guard down. He swung the rat over his shoulder, throwing him into another chair.

"Damn it Flik! You had him!" Klik went to his brother's side. "Get up, get the hell up!"

The brothers became cautious, evident by the fact they're no longer attacking immediately. They began to encircle Orphen, imitating sharks in the water. Orphen kept alert, knowing to pay attention to his flanks than the front. As he expected, he heard Flik charge first from behind, the rampant footsteps betraying his intent. Orphen did not risk turning his gaze from Klik. Instead, he surprised everyone in the tavern by lashing his leg out without turning around. He felt his feet connect to the rat's stomach, sending him flying into another person's dinner.

Klik was dumbstruck, no longer over the fact someone is defying them, but besting them. In a heat of panic, he lunged wildly, hoping that at least one of his blows would land on the ferret. Orphen raised his guard, blocking Klik's repetitive strikes. Upon the fifth swing, Orphen ducked, leaving the rat stumbling and wide open.

Orphen shot his fist upwards into the rats jaw. He would've laughed if he had known that Klik bit his tongue hard as a result. Orphen landed another blow to the rats' cheek, so hard that the both of them spun as a result. The ferret came back around, lashing at the rat with the back of his other fist, finally bringing the rat down.

"Hoo!" Orphen sighed in relief, finally having the space to catch his breath. "I hope you're paying for-."

His attempt to flaunt to the crowd was interrupted by a screaming rat, who had been sent flying across the room and sent crashing into another table.

"I'm so sorry for whoever was eating at that table." Ald'ruhn apologized in the midst of his own brawl. "If you refrain from filing a complaint to the owner." He grabbed one of the rat's arm in time before he could jab a bottle into the otter's face. "We'll gladly refund your order." He twisted the rat's arm in a fashion that forced his back to the otter, allowing Ald'ruhn to kick him into a wall. "Re-serve it for free!" He spun around, trapping the last rat's fist in his own. He rammed he rat's fist into is own jaw, making him hit himself with every word Ald'ruhn spoke, "And. Extra. Incentive."

He finally noticed Orphen awing his feats, but the otter was less than flattered. "This is no time to be gawking! Keep your eyes on your opponents, not mine."

This was the second time Orphen cursed his own head, for breaking another of his mentor's rule. True to Ald'ruhn's prediction, one of the rats was in the midst of getting back up.

"Come on." Orphen approached the crouched rat. "You know you're just going to fall back down. I'm not making fun of you when I say this, just give it up."

"Well now," The rat cocked his head. "I hope you've been blind the whole time."

The rat swung a glimmering object at Orphen's face. The ferret's timely reaction saved his life. But his arm was sacrificed as the dagger split his flesh open. Orphen held nothing back to vocalize his pain. Taking his chance, Flik grabbled Orphen from behind, trapping him in a neck hold. The ferret frantically tried elbowing the rat with his good arm, but his assailant persistently held onto him.

"Good, keep him still." Orphen thrashed in his struggles, desperately thinking of a way out of this. He only had one chance to kick the dagger out of Klik's paw, through it wouldn't solve the stranglehold he was in.

"Orphen!" Ald'ruhn rushed to his friend's aid, but one of the prone rats had been feigning his unconsciousness, latching onto the otter's cloak and bringing him down. The rat crawled over, drawing his hidden blade to plunge into Ald'ruhn's heart. The otter was able to catch the rat's wrist, resulting in a duel of strength.

Panicking at his predicament, Orphen kicked out too early, losing the chance to buy himself time.

"Oh-ho!" Klik scoffed at Orphen. "I know you'd do that. There's nothing you can do at this point. Face it! You're-."

Had he not started gloating, Klik would've noticed the red shroud stepping forward, slipping behind his brother to shatter a bottle against his head.

"Ow!" Flik unintentionally freed Orphen, cupping the back of his skull from the agony. Orphen gave him another wound to tend to by elbowing the rat, breaking the Syndicate's snout. It gave him room to jump back quickly, the dagger narrowly missing him by an inch.

As Orphen and Klik played the waiting game. Flik was shaking himself out of his daze, his expression turning to shock as he felt one of his good teeth going loose.

"Little bastard." Flik turned his attention to the red newcomer. "You're looking to die you little-." Flik ended his sentence with a swing, forcing the red stranger to back away and drop the remains of the broken bottle it could've wielded.

Flik deliberately stepped on the bottom of the stranger's cloak, causing the figure to cry out in a high pitch as it fell. The rat knelt down over the red figure, preparing to deal the first of many barrages. The stranger looked all over its surroundings, searching for anything to fend the rat off. Amongst the spilled food on the floor, it spotted a glimmer in the mess.

The two sounds that followed were a loud ping, and a loud scream. Flik's paw collided against the metal platter of the barmaid they had accosted. But it was the edge of the dish his knuckled hit. The rat arched back, cradling his dislocated claws. The platter pinged again, slapping the rat across the cheeks. His expression became blank as he collapsed to the side, knocked out for good.

The stranger pushed the assailant off, flinging the platter towards the otter and the rat wrestling the knife with one another. The blow landed perfectly against the rat's jaws. His lapse of focus allowed Ald'ruhn to pull the dagger away, bringing the handle down between the rat's eyes. The Syndicate convulsed before falling still on top of the otter.

The last spectacle was between Orphen and Klik. The ferret spent the last minute narrowly avoiding Klik's attempts to gut him, all the while guiding him to the right table. Orphen feigned a mistake, bumping against one of the tables and cutting off his escape. The rat saw his opportunity to bring the final blow. Orphen acted in time to step out of the way, grappling Klik's arm to push the dagger further down, rooting it into the wooden table.

Orphen proceeded to bat the underside of Klik's jaw, forcing the rat to back away, releasing his hold of the dagger in the process. Orphen seized the rat's exposed throat, lifting his opponent for a fraction of a second before slamming his back against another table, Orphen's table.

The crowd froze as the ferret reached below for his sword, unsheathing the weapon halfway, pressing the exposed blade against the rat's throat. Orphen finally had the rat at his mercy, and Klik himself had come to realize that.

"No, no, no!" the rat begged, "I-I didn't mean to!"

"Don't. I said stop moving!" Orphen desperately tried not to commit the deed as the rat struggled beneath him. "Get the hint already."

"What? The hell do you mean?" the rat was more concerned with his life.

"All of this, this whole fight should've been a clue for you." Orphen gestured to the remains of their scuffle. "You think that no one would ever think to stand up to you. Well, I'm the proof you're wrong."

"So…you're not going to kill me?" the rat asked.

"I'm not a killer." Orphen pressed the blade noticeably harder, warning him not to try anything, "But that doesn't mean you should be an idiot. Look, I'm not expecting you to become celibate after this, that'd be wishful thinking for the likes of you. But I'm warning you for your own good, you'd better watch what you'd do out in the open. Because if you ever pull something like this again…"

"Me?!"

"Yes, you!" Orphen called him out. "One day, if you ever try one of your stunts, there's going to be someone who's not going to stand for it. And chances are, they're not going to let you go like I did." He hoped the rat let the words sink in, "Now I'm hoping you don't try anything stupid when I let you go. Because, just letting you know, I have no problems breaking your legs." He added the threat, deterring Klik. "Do we have a deal?"

The rat did not hesitate to nod his agreement. With nothing else to go by, Orphen kept his eye on the rat as he backed away. Once he came into Ald'ruhn's presence, Orphen felt it was safe to breath safely.

"So…" the otter started, "Have you been rehearsing those lines?"

"Like, since I was five." Orphen admitted, then turned his attention to the spot of red on the otter's chest, "Is that yours?"

"Oh, this?" Ald'ruhn pointed at his wound, "Bastard nicked me. Don't worry, barely a scratch. I'm actually more concerned about you, you're dripping."

"What do mean drip…oh!" Orphen examined his arm, surprisingly regarding it with everything but horror. "Wow! That's so cool, and…" finally, the sensation caught up with him. "Ow."

"Yeah, they usually leave that part out in the books." Ald'ruhn patted his friend's arm out of consolidation. "We'd both be worst off if it weren't for…where's the blighter. Ah, there he is!" He walked up to dig into the crowd, pulling out the very distressed stranger, "C'mon, don't be shy! I promise you won't have to pay for all this mess."

"Cut the act Ald'ruhn." Said Orphen.

"What? You mean I sound insincere?" Ald'ruhn crossed.

"She knows we know who she is."

"You knew the whole time?" With the farce revealed, the stranger let her hood fall back. To both of their shock, Ald'ruhn appeared to be trying to deduce the stranger's identity still.

"It's Emma!" Orphen screamed.

"You mean…?" Ald'ruhn stepped between the two, positioning his arms over the squirrel's shoulders. "By word! It is you! Oh, it really is a small world." He pulled her closer into a hug.

"Surprise." Emma stuttered.

"You mean you didn't know?" Orphen heated up. "What was all that talk before?"

"I was honestly wondering what the blighter was up to."

"You used the 'b' word."

"No, the word would be 'bloke'." Ald'ruhn clarified as the crowd started to disperse, "But wait a minute. If I remember correctly Emma, you're not due to pack up until just about months after Orphen."

"I couldn't wait." Emma shivered. "Rayhne's probably panicking that I disappeared."

"He knew."

"Wait, how did you know that?"

"You remember back at my room? Do you know what he whispered to me? A few months won't make a difference."

"Hehe…" Emma began to laugh. "It kind of makes everything I've been doing stupid doesn't it?"

"Nah, you got me fooled." Ald'ruhn placed some consolation. "Nice job hiding your tail under your bag."

* * *

"They die tonight." Flik growled. "I don't care how, they die."

"We can't blacklist them Flik, they're not one of us."

"Then we sick Tyatnel after them."

"They're already getting suspicious of us. We set up too many scapegoats already."

"You're not actually buying that ferret's load of bull are you?"

"Like hell I am." Klik scoffed. "Look, we'll just round up the others."

"We'll lose these people then."

"Fine! Then screw it! With their attitude, these people are going to get themselves killed. Just let it be."

"…Alright…alright…" Flik slouched, looking determined to give up on their revenge. But in the midst of being assisted to his feet, he used the opportunity to slip his brother's dagger from its belt. A bystander's surprise raised the trio's arm, but it was insufficient to stop the rat. The dagger flew, intent to find its way into Orphen's heart.

Orphen had no time or ability to catch the dagger. He was not even aware of the weapon flying straight at him as he turned around. Orphen was able to breath for the next minute, thanks to the timely intervention of a stranger.

It surprised Orphen how easily the cloaked beast was able to sneak up behind Orphen, and outrunning the blade to top it off. The ferret backed away, shocked to find the dagger safely fixed between the beast's claws.

"You'd be surprised the things you find in your back." The male spoke charmingly, flipping the blade into a more comfortable grasp, "And the things you end up losing."

He made a quick flick with his wrist, and the dagger disappeared. Flik unexpectedly collapsed to the ground, after feeling something bounce against the side of his head. He rubbed his head gingerly, trying to figure out what hit him, but as his paw brushed open a certain area, id his eyes widened. Something was missing.

There, to his horror, he saw it. His ear, slowly sliding down the edge of the blade.


	5. A Simple Drink

17/12/2010: It has been too long, far too long. And I don't blame anyone if most of you have forgotten me. Let's just say that I had a lot of priorities to deal with for the past year, school mainly. So I guess that leaves the question: will I ever update this story after this. I can assure you...maybe. But anyways...

* * *

No amount of screaming Flik gave could make up for the piece of himself that was lost. He rolled across the floor, clutching the now empty spot of his head.

"My ear! You took my ear off!" The rat glared at the golden-eyed stranger who inflicted this, "You're dead! Kill him! Kill him!" The other rats complied with his command, brandishing the daggers hidden in their cloak

But at that moment, a large, hulking form fixed itself in front of the rats. The giant reached out, grasping two of the rat's entire face with its massive paws. In one swift motion, the rats were slammed against the ground so hard, the floorboards splintered. The third rat froze in his steps, paralyzed in fear as his eyes met with that of the ferocious attacker.

Another cloaked stranger took advantage of the rat's shock, twisting his arm from behind, pushing him down on his knees. As the stranger disarmed the rat, he called out to the others, "I got him! I got him!"

"Yes Sigrid, we have eyes." Said the beast that saved Orphen.

"Who…?" Was all Orphen could muster in his confusion.

"There's no cause for alarm." The stranger regarded Orphen momentarily, "While I appreciate your intervention in the matter, we can handle the rest from here."

The cloaked beast motioned at two others to join him. They began to advance towards the fallen rat, which could do little else but crawl back at the sight of their approach. He stopped retreating when he found the dagger within his grasp. One of the beasts was perceptive of the rat glancing back and forth between them and the weapon.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The male to the far left warned the rat.

Flik didn't heed the warning, retrieving the dagger to assault the one who decapitated his ear. The dagger never met its mark, Flik found his wrist intercepted by the beast's gloved paw. There was a loud grinding of a leather grip, tightening beyond the rat's capacity to endure. The pain was too much for Flik. As the rat lost hold of his dagger, the stranger proceeded to drag the rat to a table, forcing his arm flat on the surface.

The beast reached into his cloak, brandishing his own dagger, one that was curve, edge as black as the handle. Flik's eyes widened as he watched the dagger raise the dagger.

"No! NO!" Flik screamed in agony as the dagger drove through flesh, bone, and oak. Amongst the stammer and surprise from the crowd, Orphen himself flinched at the sight of the rat being pinned.

Klik was the next to act, grabbing the stranger in an effort to pull him off from his brother. He only managed to remove the beast's cowl, but found himself stumbling back when he took a good look at the stranger.

"No, not you!"

The true identity of the beast beneath was a ferret, like Orphen but with his fur jet-black. His clothes were a strange mixture of heavy fabric and leather, bound together by an intricate array of belts strapped all over his body. A long cloth hangs from his shoulders, bearing the symbol of a spiral sun on both edges. The only piece of clothing that wasn't dark was a pair of silver bracers fixed to his arms. He sported white tattoos, similar to the rats. But in addition to the glyphs, he possessed marking on his cheeks and temples resembling roots and thorns.

Recognition washed over the bystanders, causing many of them to rush for the exit during the pandemonium, willing to brave the storm rather than staying a moment longer in the same building with the ferret.

Taking opportunity of his surprise, one of the stranger's companions lunged for the rat. Klik was taken hold by the throat, where he was then immediately slammed against the floor. The cloaked companion drew a straight blade hidden at his calf, a dirk to be more precise. He pressed his tip against the rat's chin, discouraging him for lifting his head.

"Oh yes, him." The beast declared, "You are in for it now."

"Officers Klik and Flik." The black beast began, "How ironic that it was your duty to report corruption amongst your faction. A shame it's taken this long to notice the patterns." He turned to the idle associate standing at his side, "Alexia, would you kindly list out the charges these two committed within the past several minutes."

"In order?" asked the hooded female.

"Yes, that would be terrific."

The female discarded her own cloak, revealing to be a weasel. Her entire pelt was white, a stark contrast to the clothes she wore. Her garments were akin to the ferret; only the cloth was tied around her waist like a belt. Doe to the blank state of her fur, the edges of her tattoos were colored black, while the interior remained as it is. The real notable trait the weasel bore was her eyes. They were completely red, a trait many would mistake to be demonic than inherent. The weasel Alexia began listing the offences with her claws.

"Unwanted sexual advances, lingering on assault, social misconduct in public. Assaulting first. And multiple attempts of murder."

"So how much does that add to so far?" asked the ferret.

"I believe three years at least, Seyda." said the beast pinning Flik.

"Now would you care to list the other charges?" Seyda requested the weasel.

"Let's see..." Alexia retrieved a small notebook from the inner pocket of her coat, searching through half the pages until she found the name. "Twelve counts of false accusations, seven of which were directed at various members of the Syndicates. In addition to that, four counts of civilian blacklisting, all done to cover your extortion of our treasury. You have also on dozens of occasion used your rank and status to gain entrances and tribute that you were not entitled to. You have committed twenty-three counts of assault, both physical and sexual in nature. And last but not least," The weasel closed her book shut, "five counts of murder. And those were the ones we were only able to confirm."

"Wow. That makes up to dying nine times over." Calculated the beast named Sigrid.

"It's a shame you only live once." Seyda sighed.

"No, you can't do that!" Klik dared to raise his chin, only to be brought back down by the beast above him.

"We already have the statements of the victims willing to testify." Said Seyda.

"They could be all lying." Flik attempted to defend their position, "Everyone's always out for our people."

As a response, the ferret retrieved the dagger from the table, renewing the rat's pain and letting the blood seep through the gaping wound.

"With people like you, they have good reason to." Seyda lectured the rats. He motioned to Alexia to restrain Flik now that he was free. "As you are all well aware, in the event that the justice system has been abused, we have the authority to act on instinct alone to rectify the mistakes. However, this time around, it would be much more satisfying to hear a confession."

"We won't tell you shit." Klik hissed.

"That's good, because I wouldn't like to see your excrement." Seyda stated, "Understand that you're already dead. I'm just giving you a chance to make peace."

"Unless you're going to set us free, we won't talk." Klik huffed.

"Ha!" The one called Sigrid cracked a laugh, "Can you believe the sod, trying to bargain in his state."

Seyda didn't respond to the lucrative request, instead motioning to his unnamed compatriot to let Klik up. He waited for the rat to stand before asking his question.

"Now I'm only going to ask you once. Do you confess to the crimes you have been accused of?"

Klik leaned forward to the ferret, taunting him with his next words. "Bite me."

There was little change in the ferret's expression, having prepared his own reply in advance, "I have a similar idea in mind."

The ferret spun around, becoming a blur to Orphen's eyes once more. When the ferret Seyda became still, ribbons of red flew out from Klik's face. It became obvious what the fluidic colour was when it stained tables, floor, and bystander. The carnage paled in comparison to the scream Klik gave, but it was unlike his previous cry.

Even with his hands covering his face, Klik's screams somehow managed to escape in every direction. The rat collapsed to his knees, his eyes stretched at its widest from what he was deprived of. Despite his best efforts to contain it, blood managed to seep through his claws, overfilling his entire paws.

"My god!" it was only seconds after witnessing did Orphen come forward, bending down to try helping the rat. "Here, let me see. Let me see." It took Orphen some effort to pry Klik's paw way to inspect. But when he managed to gain a clear sight, his stomach churned at the gore he was looking at.

The rat's cheeks have been torn wide open, his red stained teeth forever exposed for all to see. The flesh of one cheek had caved inward, and bent outwards on the other side. Nevertheless, two steady streams poured from the open wounds. All the while the rat screamed, having nothing left but his tongue to vocalize his agony.

Of all the emotions Orphen experienced, among horror and disgust, the one that stood out was outrage; against the black ferret who afflicted this permanent injury. Orphen arose balling his protest into his fest as he faced his dark counterpart. "Why did you do that?"

"Trust me boy." The black ferret was already in the midst of cleaning the blade with a tablecloth, "He was long overdue for this punishment."

"No one deserves this." Orphen said.

Although keeping his gaze on his blade, Seyda addressed Orphen's opinion.

"These...vermin, were responsible for the deaths of over twenty good people. And in addition, scarring the minds of so many maidens. A fellow Executioner took his own life from realizing what he allowed to transpire. If I'm not going to do this, then hell will."

Seyda lifted his gaze from the dagger, turning his attention to his next victim.

"And you!" He presented the tip of his dagger to Klik's brother, who became visibly shaken from the fate that may await him, "Since you're his twin. I think it's only proper that you both keep looking alike. Right down to the smile."

"No! Not me!" The rat understandably panicked against Alexia's grip. But it was a far cry to what he will sustain next. The black ferret ignored the pleas, patiently taking his stride towards his next victim.

It wasn't long before Seyda found himself stopping, expressing genuine surprise as the younger ferret stood in the way to impede his ritual.

"Orphen, no!" Ald'ruhn reached out desperately, "You're going to get yourself killed."

"I'd heed that otter's words if I were you." Seyda advised Orphen.

It was visibly obvious that Orphen was terrified. The young ferret had no idea what possessed him to risk his life, for someone who tried to kill him earlier. His mind was telling him to back away, that this is the onetime where chivalry won't work.

"No."

Silence. Ald'ruhn and Emma held their breath for the worst. The rest of the crowd expected Orphen to be cut down where he stood. The companions of the black ferret, barring the wolverine, glanced at the defiant individual. And Seyda, merely gave a slight tip of his head, as did his lade. His golden eyes were analytical, determining if this was bravery or stupidity he was seeing.

"You're a strange thing for a ferret." The older ferret recomposed himself; his dagger remained high, however facing sideways, a mirror to Seyda's stance. "So tell me, after all the suffering this pair in particular inflicted," He briefly pointed at the brothers, "why shouldn't I return the favour they so cruelly deserve?"

"Because..." Orphen stopped, realizing what the black ferret was playing at. He wasn't looking for a good answer, he was looking for a good excuse he never heard before. Orphen stalled the darker ferret, but now his next words could determine the rat's lives, and even himself.

Orphen searched his mind, but desperation clouded his rationale. But just when the older ferret was at the end of his patience, a revelation came to Orphen.

"Because...because you don't even get good information that way. Eventually they'll confess to anything to make the pain stop, even if they're innocent."

Again, silence. At first, Seyda gave no indication as to what he decided. But finally, he switched the grip of his dagger, his paw dripping down to his waist in a display of conceding.

"For a moment, I thought you were going to say I'd be no different from them. But that would be all ethics, no logic. But yours was a practical answer, I like that."

Seyda took one good look at the rat that was now deprived of his speech, reduced to pitiful whimpering after his violent spell.

"I must admit. I got carried away." It was hard to distinguish remorse or sarcasm in his voice, "Very well then. These five will be subjected to an official trial to determine their sentence."

"What's the point?" Alexia was astonished, "They're still going to get the same results."

"That's exactly the point. Because it will be fair." Seyda declared. The black ferret then faced his idle compatriot, motioning his head to the mutilated rat. "Frey. I'm afraid you're going to take care of the baby."

With an annoyed shrug, the ferret's companion obeyed. "Alright, you heard him." He directed the rat as the hooded beast stood over him. Klik however persisted to dwell in his pain, hunched over, perhaps no longer registering anyone's voice anymore.

"Hey!" Frey barked impatiently, reaching down to drag the rat up, "on your feet."

There's no way Frey could've predicted the rats farce, bending down just right for Klik to make his move. The rat shout our both paws, one grasping for Frey's exposed dagger now wthin his reach. The rat pressed his other paw against Frey's chest. The dagger slipped out easily as Frey fell onto his back.

Wasting not a second more, Klik made his last ditch attempt of vengeance against the ferret. Everything about the rat was different now, no longer acting out of fear or malice. His screams were a shrills, his new face a thing out of hell, his eyes lose all sense of rationale. The rat has devolved to his lowest state of mind.

Had the witnesses focused their attention away from the crazed rat, they would've noticed subtle movements at the moment. The wolverine hunched his body, preparing to leap across the room and intercept the rat. But like a pet, he stood down when his leader gestured an open paw to the wolverine. With the blade gripped in reverse, Klik's weapon dived the ferret's heart.

The blade however, ended up undershooting its target drastically, plunging into the rats instead. The horrid shrieks ceased, but the sudden surprise indicated the rat still had life in him.

"Strange isn't it." Seyda whispered into Klik's ear, "It's almost as if you can't feel it...until I do this." A simple twist of the handle drilled a hole in the rat's heart, producing the most excruciating pain imaginable in the span of a second before Klik was introduced to the next plane.

Amongst the various reactions that came from the crowd, Orphen's heart raced, almost denying what he just saw. It has only been a handful of days since he left the comforts of the orphanage, and already a beast has died before his very eyes, committed by an act of murder. The ferret barely registered his friend Emma, diving into the back of his shoulders, using him to shield the sight away. The only reaction Ald'ruhn gave was stepping away, his expression visibly composed.

The brother of the now deceased twin did not well too well at the sight of Klik's death. He thrashed through Alexia's hold, screaming his brother's name wildly. It came to the point the female weasel incapacitated him with a swift blow to the back of his head.

"I'm so sorry Seyda." Frey adjusted his hood that had fallen off; briefly revealing to be a grey weasel, "I didn't think he would try it."

"He was a wild thing." Seyda pushed the dead weight off the dagger, offering it to the weasel to clean, "He wasn't meant to survive in today's time."

In the aftermath of the crisis, Seyda turned his attention to the younger ferret, still frozen from where he stood, staring at the lifeless rat. The black ferret sighed to himself, recognizing that look to be the first experience of death. "I do sincerely apologize for this, it's a shame our compromise couldn't be reached. I was hoping that we had resolved this civilly. But I had no…" he noticed a red hue on the Orphen's arm. "Oh, you're bleeding."

"Oh." That snapped Orphen out of his trance as he inspected the state of his arm, "No, it's fine."

"I beg to differ." Seyda disagreed, "You're not expecting the air to heal that are you? Come," He pulled open a chair, "sit down and let me look at that arm of yours."

Orphen stepped forward, finding it best to obey the older ferret. But he found himself anchored in his place. Emma pulled him back towards her, refusing to let him depart.

"Emma, it's okay." Orphen consoled her, "He won't hurt us." He may be shaken from the visual ordeal, but he can tell the black ferret had no intent to harm them.

"No." The squirrel dug her face deeper into his back, "It's not him."

"Ah." Seyda glanced at the corpse beneath his feet, "Yes, that'd be a very inconvenient sight." He motioned to the last comrade whose face had not been unveiled, "Sigrid, if you would kindly drag that…thing, outside."

"Aw." The cloaked assistant pouted, "Why do I always have to be the grave digger?"

"Because I know how you always want to sing about it."

"Alright, you got me." Sigrid admitted, "Wait, does this mean I can ditch the rags?"

"Go ahead." Seyda obliged.

"Alright!" The beast discarded his cloak in gusto, revealing to be a brown furred mink beneath. His uniform and markings was the same as the others, except the white cloth was wrapped around his neck, like a scarf. "Ooh." He scratched his chin, "It's so good to be out of that thing, the itching was killing me."

"Wait a minute." Alexia ceased dragging the prone brother to the door, confounded by that contradicting statement. "How could that make you itch, if you're wearing another cloak underneath."

"Because…" The mink paused for a moment, "It's _that_ itchy."

"Just…" Alexia rubbed her brow, "Just dump the body."

"Time to dump the body!" Sigrid bent down, dragging the corpse by the foot, all the while muttering a tune as he exited the Inn.

"I read your mind." Seyda observed Orphen's perplexed expression, "He's not insane, just very… eccentric." He was the first to be seated down, and slowly, the bystanders returned to the their tables. All that's left to traumatize the crowd that remained was the line of blood Sigrid existentially painted with the facedown rat. "Again, I am terribly sorry for this outcome, especially the trouble the blighters put you through. Seyda Nenn, if you haven't caught it earlier."

"Uh…Orphen." Out of common courtesy, Orphen extended his hand towards the black ferret. Seyda was mildly surprised by the gesture, but he proceeded to shake hands with Orphen.

"That's a rather peculiar name you have." Seyda panned his hands towards the other side of the table, "You can go ahead and sit now, no use in idling about."

"Oh, and waiter." Seyda addressed Ald'ruhn, "I'll need a clean cloth and a pitcher of water for the young ferret. Warm preferably."

"O-of course." Ald'ruhn obeyed, heading to the back to gather what the black ferret asked.

"Broly." Seyda called out to the largest of his companions, the wolverine, "Why don't you join us? I don't think those rats are going to come to any time soon."

The wolverine wordlessly complied, lifting his fists off the unconscious rats to sit by his superior's side.

"Oh." Seyda noted, "And do lose that hood, let's not be strangers in front of these heroes."

"Of course, master." The wolverine unveiled himself, showing to possess broad brown fur. The tattoo markings are significant between his eyes, spreading all over his forehead.

To be honest, Orphen would've felt more comfortable if the wolverine had kept his hood on. The ferret noticed a multitude of scars mixed with Broly's markings, adding to his intimidating stature. He couldn't help but stare at the mighty beast, knowing he would've stood no chance in a fight with Broly.

"Oh, don't be scared of him." Seyda reassured the pair, "He's never once harmed a good beast before in his life. Ain't that right Broly?" he asked the giant, tapping his arm for a response.

"Never intentionally, master."

"Why does he call you that?" Emma asked, noticing how Broly was calling the black ferret.

"It's a very complicated story." Seyda said with a tiring sigh, "It's how he was brought up to address most others. And he happens to feel indebted to serve and call me as such after he was rescued, although he had no real obligation towards me."

"Hmm." Broly stayed silent, secretly denying the last part of the statement.

"But enough about him." Seyda turned back towards the pair, "Let's see that arm of yours." Orphen allowed the black ferret to observe the wound. "Hmm. Not too deep to require stitches. Which is good, I only my basic supplies with me. You're very lucky that your companion was there to save you. Is it appropriate to ask for her name?"

"It's Emma. And that there," Orphen pointed to the otter delivering the pitcher and cloth, "is Ald'ruhn."

"Oh?" Seyda glanced at the otter, "How are you acquainted with the ferret?"

"We grew up together."

"Well why didn't you tell me earlier you were his friend. And to think you were just a bartender breaking up the fight. You know what, sit down, the other guests can wait."

Ald'ruhn was hesitant at first, but proceeded to pull a chair over. Seyda noted how the otter never took his gaze off the ferret, as if expecting Seyda to spring and attack him. The ferret sighed, seeing this reaction many times before.

"Believe what you will of me. But I never demonstrate those rumours on good hearted folks."

"So you're well known around these parts." Orphen guessed, eliciting an astonished stare from Seyda.

"Please tell me you're joking."

Orphen shrank in his seat, feeling he insulted the older ferret, "I'm, uh, new around here."

Seyda shrugged, accepting that excuse, "Judging from your name, you hail from the Madrigal Houses."

"Actually, I was raised in Wellman's, sir." Orphen corrected.

"Strange." Seyda began dampening the cloth, "I would've heard about an orphanage other than the Madrigal Houses taking in our kind." He began to run the cloth down Orphen's arm, removing dried and crusted blood. Orphen cringed as the cloth brushed against his open wound, but bore with the pain. "Wellman's, you said?" Seyda asked to distract Orphen from the sensation.

"Yes?"

"That building has a very long history, but you probably already know of that. I'm surprised however that you never learned of us. Your caretaker must be very careless to shelter you like that."

"Rayhne is one of the best people I know." Emma bravely retorted, "He didn't treat Orphen like a vermin, he raised everyone equally."

"Emma…" Ald'ruhn patted the squirrel's shoulder, stopping her from going further.

"No, I'm sorry for offending your upbringing." Seyda apologized, "But I stand by my beliefs, it's not wise to hide children from all the possible dangers that lurks outside your walls. But then again," the ferret leaned to glance at the item hanging from Orphens' waist, "I've never heard of a caretaker arming his children."

"Oh, it was his gift to me." Orphen replied, "Rayhne would teach me almost every day how to wield one."

"So you were instructed in swordplay, and yet you weren't taught a single thing about the Syndicates." Seyda gathered, "You are one interesting boy. May I take a look at it?"

"Well…"

"Sorry, that was too much for me to ask."

"No, it's alright. Here." Orphen unlatched the sword from his waist, sliding it towards Seyda. The black ferret briefly ceased treating Orphen's would to inspect it. He studied the pommel, the cross guard, the grip, finally unsheathing the sword by an inch to inspect the blade. "This is a really old sword, Pre-Liberation. They don't make custom crafts like these anymore. All mass produced these days." Feeling satisfied with what he saw, Seyda offered the weapon back to Orphen. "You got yourself a priceless treasure hanging at your waist. You'd best not sell it." He added in a joking tone.

"I wouldn't count on it." Orphen smiled back.

"Anyways, back to your arm." Seyda pulled a roll of bandages from his cloak. "Sorry I don't have disinfectant."

"I don't mind. I should be thankful you're helping me as it is." As Seyda proceeded to dress the cut, Orphen decided to ask the older ferret a lingering question. "So, you and the rats are…syndicates."

"Correct."

"But from what I see, you were stopping crime. That kind of contradicts with the definition of the word."

"Oh, that's the name of our title." Seyda corrected Orphen, "It's very complicated to say the least. But I gather you're in need for a crash course if you want a hope to survive future encounters."

"For starters, Mossflower used to be a highly disorganized country, this lead to Murderers, thieves and other ilk running rampant throughout the country, too many to apprehend. Since it was impossible to simply erase the level of crime, a system of was created to control it, organize it. The creation of the Syndicates was meant to turn crime into a business. Do you follow so far?"

"Um, yes."

"Members within the Syndicates are motivated by profit, not violence. Thanks to this system, the level of crime within this country has become less volatile. Being a Syndicate comes with many benefits, provided that the members follow a set of rules. And every once in a while, someone breaks those guidelines, acting against the best interests of the organization. That's where I come in." Seyda pointed towards the markings on his face, "The colours of our tattoos indicates our basic duty, this is used to segregate and control crime, mine happens to be hunting down members who break the laws of their faction, and I am very good at my job."

"So wait," Emma interjected, "You're law enforcers who lets some crimes happens and some crimes don't?"

"Basically." Seyda answered, "But for the most part, you'd best avoid anyone bearing tattoos like these, especially if they don't bear these colours. I believe that's the only thing you need to know." Finally, Seyda stuck a pin on both ends of the bandage wraps, "That should do it, just be sure not to scratch it until it's fully healed."

"Thank you, sir." Orphen acknowledged.

"Well then." Seyda stood up, "With that taken care of, I should get going."

"Wait," Ald'ruhn said, "It's still raining hard outside. It'd be best to wait until the storm clears."

"I appreciate the thought," Seyda smiled, "But my associates and I need to make some immediate preparations." He tapped the silent wolverine's arm, motioning him to gather the unconscious rats on the ground. "I do hate the rain though." Seyda admitted as he slipped the cloaks hood over his head.

"I hear ya." Orphen agreed with Seyda sentiments, "Don't know why I like cold baths."

Seyda stopped at the doorway, surprised the younger ferret has the same affinity, "Your surname."

"My what?" Orphen was caught off guard from the sudden request.

"I like knowing the full names of individuals I take a liking too." Seyda answered.

"Oh, it's Ca-." Orphen interrupted himself with a hoarse cough, remembering the warning his mother wrote to him, "aaaaa….listo. Yes, Calisto."

"Well, Mr. Calisto," Seyda waved goodbye, "here's hoping we meet again."


End file.
